


Every Time We Touch

by siriuspiggyback



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Angst, Domestic, Ghosts, Humor, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, M/M, Mild Gore, Mild Sexual Content, Modern David "Dave" Katz, POV David "Dave" Katz, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Pre-Canon, Sharing a Bed, Slow Burn, but also a little, dave is ex army but very critical of the us military-industrial complex, maybe even some
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-23
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:27:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 20
Words: 63,929
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25473868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/siriuspiggyback/pseuds/siriuspiggyback
Summary: One touch. One touch is all it takes, one accidental moment of contact, a pure coincidence, and then-Klaus looks at Dave with pupils too wide and says, "I guess you can't usually see ghosts, then."
Relationships: Ben Hargreeves & Klaus Hargreeves, Dave & Ben Hargreeves, Dave & Diego Hargreeves, Dave/Klaus Hargreeves, Diego Hargreeves & Klaus Hargreeves, Klaus Hargreeves/David "Dave" Katz
Comments: 1268
Kudos: 1215





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This one begins about six or seven years pre-canon, and will diverge from there. Enjoy!

The day that Dave meets them, he is running late for work. It is the beginning of summer, the sun beating down on the street and on Dave's skin, and his almost-run is making him sweat. He hopes that he doesn't look totally disgusting by the time he reaches the VA.

He barrels around a corner, directly into someone. Skidding to a stop, he automatically reaches out to prevent the other from falling, clumsily grabbing until they find their balance, and Dave lets go hastily. "Sorry!' he says. "Sorry, are you okay?"

The man in front of him blinks. He’s handsome, strikingly so. His pupils are wide (and Dave has seen enough addicts at the VA to know the look) but he seems fairly present, at least, when his eyes flit over Dave. He has a sharp look to him. "I'm just fine," he drawls, relaxed voice at odds with the focused way he is assessing Dave. 

"At least when people walk into me, they have a good excuse," says a new voice. Dave realises, with sudden surprise, that there is another stranger hovering behind the first. It's unusual for Dave. Normally, it is pretty hard to take him by surprise - he is ex military, and hypervigilance is pretty par for the course. 

"Sorry," Dave says again, this time to the second guy, because he isn't sure what he meant but an apology seems a safe bet. He edges around the pair, and explains, "I'm late for work, kind of in a rush-"

"Wait," says the second guy, eyes wide. "You can see me?"

Dave pulls up short. "Uh. Yes?"

"You can see me. And hear me."

With a nervous laugh, Dave says, "Is there a reason I wouldn't be able to see you?"

The first guy, who had been watching with a confused expression, says, "I think something weird is happening."

"Okay, is this a prank?" asks Dave. "Am I being pranked right now? Because I really am late for work-"

"I'm dead," blurts the second guy.

"... right," says Dave. "I mean, you seem pretty chatty for a dead guy?”

“Something very, very weird is happening,” repeats the first guy. “Ben, I- Are you there?”

“Klaus?” says the second guy - Ben? - expression melting from confusion to panic. 

Dave might have a bit of a hero complex, but he’s 90% sure he’s just stumbled into some ludicrous kind of prank, or maybe just a couple of addicts who are having a weird trip. Either way, he’s meant to be leading a group meeting in about three minutes, and he’s pretty sure his vets need him more than these guys, so he says, “Look, I don’t really know what’s going on here, but I have to go, so- Bye?”

“Wait,” says Klaus, but Dave really can’t, and he’s already started into a light jog. The VA building is on the street over, and he’s got about two minutes to get there. The streets seem busier than usual, louder too, and he finds himself weaving through pedestrians, trying to avoid another collision.

Outside the VA building - a slightly dilapidated, underfunded place, but his place nonetheless - he stops to straighten his shirt and smooth down his hair, trying to catch his breath. He wants to avoid being teased by his vets if possible. Luckily, he is still pretty in shape, even after the chest wound that got him discharged.

“You don’t want to go in there.”

Dave startles hard, whirling around at the voice, and his hand reaches for a weapon that he doesn’t have. Behind him is Klaus, cheeks flushed, his hands on his knees as if winded from the jog, and behind him, Ben, looking unruffled. Dave hadn’t even heard them following. 

“Sorry?” asks Dave.

Klaus sucks in a breath, and straightens. “Trust me,” he says, “if you’re like me, that’s pretty much the worst place for you to be.”

Checking his watch, Dave realises that he’s a full minute late for his group. “Look man, I have no idea what you’re talking about, but I really am late now,” he says, hurrying inside. In his rush, he has to squeeze through the people in the hall (a lot of people, milling around aimlessly, but he doesn’t have time to work out why) and pushes into his meeting room.

And then he stops.

Instead of his circle of familiar faces - or, _as well as_ his circle of vets, because he thinks he can catch a glimpse of one or two - he finds a room full to the brim of people. 

No, not people. Not really.

Some of them look like people, folks fresh home who aren’t comfortable wearing civies yet, but some of them make it obvious that this isn’t that. There are soldiers with limbs dangling from torn strips of flesh, and soldiers missing limbs altogether, soldiers with holes through them, soldiers so burned that the army camo is entirely gone. And then there’s the others. Some look American, dressed in their jeans and sneakers, whilst many others look Middle Eastern, their clothes familiar to Dave from his 10 month tour in Afghanistan. It’s impossible to say how many of them are civilians, but some of them are young. Too young. They look at Dave when he enters, and his breath catches in his throat.

A hand falls on his shoulder, bunching the material of his shirt, pulling him back half a step. He would scream, but his throat has closed over. 

Then Klaus is there, talking loudly, and Dave doesn’t quite catch it but it sounds something like ‘sick’ and ‘take him home,’ and he allows himself to be led out by a guy that he just met, because he doesn’t know what the hell else to do.

Stumbling outside, Dave doubles over. He feels like he might throw up. Nothing makes sense and he doesn't understand, unless this is some kind of psychotic break, some kind of delayed stress response, because sure, he has some PTSD, but he's never seen something like _that_ before. It can't have been real. Real people wouldn't survive those sorts of injuries, and he saw enough action to know it, to know how much a human body can take before it lets go.

"Hey man, calm down, they're not following," says a voice - Ben, he thinks, who sounds steadier than Klaus, but still uncomfortable. 

Dave straightens, sways. Klaus reaches out as if ready to catch him, but pulls back at the last moment, hugging himself instead.

"Nothing makes sense," Dave croaks. "I think- maybe I'm having an episode. Or I'm having a nightmare. I mean, this can't be real, can it?"

Klaus laughs, and tells him, “Story of my life, buddy.”

“How are you so calm? _Something is wrong!”_

“In my defense,” says Klaus with a slow blink, “I did take some vicodin earlier.”

Ben steps closer, hands in his pockets. “Have you got a place nearby? We can all calm down and talk.”

Having a plan, as loose as it is, settles something in Dave. They aren’t too far from his apartment. Maybe he just needs to breathe, drink some water and take a nap, and everything will go back to normal. If nothing else, there will be fewer witnesses to his freaking out.

"Okay. Okay, this way," says Dave, trying to orient himself. The neighborhood is familiar, and he knows each side street by heart, so he isn't sure why everything seems jagged and strange, like when you dream of a place you know. The streets are busy. Dave tries not to look at anyone too closely, afraid to see any more fatal wounds on walking bodies, and sound presses up against his skin.

He lets them into his apartment in a daze, taking a few attempts to unlock the door with unsteady hands, before staggering across the room to slump down on his couch. The hesitant footsteps - just audible over the sounds that reach up from the street below - tell him that Ben and Klaus have followed, though it takes a moment for them to join him, Klaus sitting beside him whilst Ben perches on the armchair opposite.

Dave sucks in a slow breath, and asks, "Can someone please explain to me what's going on?"

Ben starts, "We only have half an idea-

"It's a really long, weird story," Klaus barrels over him. Then, he adds, "wait, is Ben explaining?"

He thinks he knows, but he has to ask anyway. "Are you suggesting that you two can't see each other?"

"No, I-" 

"-can probably see-

"-but he can't see-"

"-me, but I can't see him."

Pinching bridge of his nose, Dave’s eyes squeeze shut for a brief second, and then he grits out, "What the fuck is happening?"

Klaus looks at him with pupils too wide and says, "I guess you can't usually see ghosts, then."

His words seem to echo in the quiet of the apartment. Ben looks between them with a mixture of alarm and resignation, as if waiting for Dave to flip out, which- yeah, he really, really wants to flip the fuck out. If he had gone through less therapy, he probably would. As it is, he just lets out a helpless little laugh.

"I'll take that as a no," Klaus sighs.

"Definitely a no," he agrees weakly. "Definitely a big fucking no. Do I look like Patrick Swayze?"

Klaus considers, and says, "Well, a little bit."

"If anyone is Patrick Swayze here, it's me. Haven't you seen the movie? You are clearly the Whoopi Goldberg of this situation."

"Oh, right," says Dave. "Because you're dead, right?" He feels laughter fizzing on his chest, too heavy and awful to be true amusement.

"Well, yeah dude," says Ben.

"He's super dead," Klaus adds.

He's dead. Sure. There is a ghost in Dave's living room, sitting in his armchair. Why not.

"And you can see ghosts, even though you can't see Ben right now," Dave clarifies. "Like, a medium or something?"

"Something like that," says Klaus, tone consprital.

Ben interjects, "Klaus can always see me, though. Up until now."

Dave takes a moment to think about it. Then, resolute, he says, "No."

"No?"

"No. Nope. This isn't happening."

Klaus pulls a face. "You don't believe me?"

Shaking his head, Dave says, "I don't believe any of this. None of this is happening. No."

"Dude," says Ben. Then, he reaches out and touches Dave.

His hand passes-

through-

" _What the fuck,"_ Dave yelps, shooting to his feet. "What the _actual fuck-"_

And then Ben tells him to calm down, to _calm down_ , as if everything hasn't gone totally insane, as if he's not talking to a ghost right now, and he feels like his grip on the moment is slipping away, and he feels the same choking terror as he used to feel every time he picked up his gun, and everything is just too much and-

Klaus looks scared.

Ben has stepped in front of him, arms up, hands splayed, eyes wide, as if expecting him to take a swing, and Klaus looks like he wants to run, and Dave only then realises how his hands are squeezed in tight fists.

"I-" Dave chokes. "I'm gonna- I'm gonna go take a shower."

A beat of silence.

“A shower?” Klaus repeats, as if he’s never heard of one before.

“Yep,” Dave says, voice high, “I got sweaty running, so I’m going to take a shower, and then make some tea, and then we can- talk. Yep. That’s the plan.”

Ben says, “Right.” He doesn’t sound convinced.

“Right. Okay. Bye.”

He tries, and mostly fails, not to run away.

Closing the bathroom door is an instant, if small, relief, as he blocks out the weirdness. In the narrow space of the bathroom, Dave can almost pretend that this is a normal day, that he’s just got home from work like normal. His heart still beats too fast. It doesn’t solve anything; the ghost and the stranger are both still waiting in the next room. Still, who could blame him for needing a moment?

The shower does what he had hoped. The shock of warmth and immersive sound of water ground him to the moment, until he feels like he’s back inside his body, rather than floating somewhere above it. For the first time since running into Klaus, he can't hear any voices, alive or dead.

He takes his time drying his hair, procrastinating. He pulls his trousers back on, and chucks the shirt in the hamper after it fails a quick sniff test, but his mind is more focused on his living room than his clothes. Maybe… maybe there’s no one waiting. Maybe it was all a strange, hyperrealistic dream. Maybe they got bored and left.

Maybe Dave’s fooling himself.

Klaus is sprawled out on the couch when he dares to leave the bathroom, looking deeply asleep, mouth parted and breaths slow. Ben is standing by his side like a guardian angel. He looks worried, brow furrowed, and then he catches sight of Dave and grimaces. “Hi,” he says.

Dave swallows, suddenly aware that he’s shirtless. “Uh- hi,” he says, voice embarrassingly high.

And because his luck is shit, that’s when Klaus wakes up, blinking awake suddenly before his eyes lock onto Dave’s chest. “ _Hello,”_ he says, and he says it like it means something else.

Reaching up with one hand to self-consciously cover the worst of the scarring, Dave says, “Be right back,” before slipping into his bedroom.

_So, they are definitely still here._

He scrambles blindly through his closet for something resembling a shirt. The same creeping anxiety is curdling his lungs, so he focuses on it one step at a time, tugging his shirt on ( _don't focus on the pull of scar tissue)_ and smoothing down his curls, before stepping back out into the living room. "Tea, anyone?"

Klaus, this time just about awake, says, "Yes please?"

Dave busies himself with heating the water and pulling out two mugs. He feels the need to offer Ben something, but he doesn't know if ghosts are capable of drinking, and he doesn't want to be rude, so ends up staying quiet. He does make sure to give Klaus the mug without the chip in it.

"Thank you," says Klaus grandly, making a show of inhaling the steam.

"You’re welcome," Dave replies, taking a seat.

Klaus smiles, and he really is rather handsome, especially when his eyes are crinkled up like that. 

"Hey, uh," Ben says awkwardly, "could you let him know that I'm still here?"

"Sure. Um, Ben says- well, he told me to let you know that he's still here," says Dave, feeling stupid for repeating it.

Something in Klaus seems to relax. It's subtle, barely noticeable, but it's almost like he sinks further into the couch, like gravity is finally claiming him. "Cool," he says nonchalantly.

Dave blows over the surface of the tea, trying to formulate a sentence better than _so what the fuck._ "So, could you maybe start by explaining your- your ability?" 

Klaus says, "As good a place to start as any," although something bitter twists his mouth. "So, I've always been able to see ghosts. It's my power, if you can call it that. I'm-" he shakes his hands out, a little _ta-da_ gesture "-the séance."

It takes a moment for it to click.

" _Oh,"_ exclaims Dave, "like the, uh- the umbrella school thing?"

The dry smile on Klaus' face turns into something more genuine. "That's the one. So, that's my thing. Benjamin over here-"

"It's Ben."

"- is my little brother."

"We're the same age, asshole."

"He is, unfortunately, deceased," Klaus finishes dramatically.

"Well," says Dave. "Sorry to hear that."

"Thanks," deadpans Ben.

Dave takes a moment to process the story, before asking, "How do I stop seeing them? No offence, Ben."

"None taken," Ben says, sounding vaguely irritated.

Klaus scratches his jaw. "In my experience? A shit ton of drugs. It's not perfect, but it makes them quieter. Or- most of them, at least."

"Well, that's not ideal," Dave says mildly.

"But in this case, they aren't actually your powers. You just… stole them, accidentally. Maybe you can swap back?" Ben suggests, and Dave dutifully relays it.

"Oh, like Freaky Friday!"

Dave frowns. "Am I Lindsey Lohan in this scenario, or am I-"

"That's really not relevant," Ben interrupts tiredly.

"We should run at each other," Klaus says.

Head in his hands, Ben weakly says, "That didn't even work in the movie."

"There's probably things we can try before a full speed collision. Like- touching?"

"Touching?" Klaus echoes in a strange voice.

Oh no. Dave's face feels warm. Is he blushing? He feels like he's blushing.

"No, that could work," Ben says thoughtfully.

The moment feels thick with a twisted sort of anticipation. Dave shares a long look with Klaus, who raises a challenging eyebrow, before offering out a regal hand, palm down like he is waiting for it to be kissed.

Dave reaches out.

"Wait!" Klaus yelps.

Withdrawing, Dave asks, "What?"

"I just…" Klaus trails off, eyelid fluttering closed. A sigh. "I just want to remember what it's like. Silence."

For the first time, Dave considers what it really means, what he is asking of Klaus. He almost questions whether Klaus really wants the ghosts back. The guy has been drugging himself just to escape his powers, and yet he's still willing to take them back, willing to curse himself? Then he registers the scared way Ben is watching. Maybe it's not so strange, after all.

Almost silently, Ben says, with a voice full of heartbreak, "Why are you doing this?" 

Dave looks away.

A strangled laugh escapes Klaus, who covers his face with his hands, shoulders shaking. "This is so stupid. Oh my god. This is everything I've ever wanted, and I'm actively trying to get the ghosts back?"

"Are you-" Dave stops short of asking a stupid question.

"Peachy," Klaus breathes. "Okay, yes, I'm ready." He reaches out again. Dave notices that his fingers tremble finely.

Slowly, Dave stretches out.

Their fingertips brush.

The sensation is both mundane and shocking, somehow, like when fingernails are cut too short and the exposed skin feels too sensitive to touch.

Ben doesn't disappear in a flash, or evaporate, or turn to smoke. He is simply there, and then he is not.

Breath leaves Klaus in one long _woosh._ His shoulders sag down for a moment, and a complex expression plays over his face, something between relief and devastation. “Hey, Ben,” he says. (If Ben replies, Dave doesn’t hear it.)

The noise that had been pressing against Dave, distant and loud, is finally gone, and the absence allows him to breathe properly. It had only been an hour of hearing the other side, but it was one hour too many.

“Well, this has been a wild ride,” Klaus says abruptly, standing up, “but we should get out of your hair now, hm?”

“Oh,” says Dave. “Okay. I mean, do you- are you okay?”

Klaus laughs, his smile brittle and jagged like broken glass. “You’re a riot.”

He doesn’t really know how to respond to that, so Dave just says, “Well, I owe you. If you ever need help-”

“Oh, I’m sure that there’s _plenty_ you can help me with,” Klaus says lewdly, “but I do have, y’know, things to see, people to do. Thanks for the tea, though.”

“Sure,” says Dave. “You’re- you’re welcome. Thanks for…"

"Not leaving you saddled with the ghosts? I can't say it's my pleasure, but y'know, at least I get to see this asshole." He blows a raspberry at, presumably, Ben. "And besides, the drugs work pretty well."

Guilt rises, hot and viscous in his throat. Can he really abandon Klaus to his addiction, pass the buck and leave Klaus to handle the consequences, to suffer the curse? But what else can he do?

Some of this must show in his face, because Klaus reaches out to pat his shoulder, only to stop before making contact. "Uh. Don't worry about it, dude. I'm okay."

"Okay," Dave says, although his smile falls flat.

Klaus let's himself out.

With the apartment now empty, Dave sags down into the couch cushions, wishing they might swallow him whole. He's exhausted. The whole day feels like something out of a creative nightmare, and Dave wishes it was, but the second mug on the coffee table says otherwise. It seems to gloat from where it sits innocuously on the coaster. 

He dumps it in the sink.

The silence is oppressive, and only serves to make Dave think about the sound that he can't hear, the cries for help that no longer exist for him. Someone could be standing right next to him, right behind him. How would he know? Imagining it, goosebumps rise on his arms, and he shivers.

The radio helps a little. He mostly stops listening for voices that he can't hear.

When his boss calls, he tells her that he had a stomach bug, and apologises profusely for the short notice. He's back to work two days later. His group tease him for his dramatic exit, and ask questions about the mysterious man who he was with, but Dave brushes them off with a laugh, cheeks flushing.

He can't forget what happened, suspects that he never will. He is careful about accidentally touching anyone, and stares at shadows when he is feeling anxious, even resorting to sleeping with the lights on during the bad nights, as foolish as it makes Dave feel. 

Still, the incidence begins to fade in his memory. It starts to feel like a strange dream, or a story he read in a book, too odd to fit neatly into the narrative of his life. He doesn't forget, but he starts to think about it less, until he can almost pretend that it never happened. Almost. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I won't lie, I did think for a Long Time on whether klaus would willingly take his powers back. I think 29 year old klaus would run and never look back, but this klaus is young, and as far as he's concerned, with the drugs and ben he's got the best of both worlds. he's in control, and he doesn't want anything to change. yet.
> 
> I would love it if you let me know what you thought!


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw for some mild gore and survivors guilt

Three months go by like that.

Dave is resigned to that day being a blip in his otherwise unremarkable life, and stops looking for ghosts everywhere he goes. His vets stop asking about who Klaus is. It's like it never happened.

Then there is a knock on his door.

It is eleven at night, and he isn't expecting any visitors. Despite not seeing active combat in three whole years, Dave still has his army reflexes, and is on his feet before the knocking ends, creeping up to the door to peek through the peephole. 

Klaus is standing outside.

Dave's heart does something strange at the sight, somehow fluttering and dropping simultaneously. The result makes him feel queasy.

He lets him in, despite the small, fearful part of him that wants nothing to do with Klaus and the strange and terrifying world he is part of. Still, another part of him burns with curiosity, begs to know Klaus better. Something about him is magnetic, and Dave is helpless against it.

On the threshold, Klaus wavers slightly. He looks pale and gaunt, brow sweaty, eyes tired, but he smiles when he sees Dave. “Hello again,” he says.

“Hi,” Dave says.

A beat. They look at each other, both waiting for the other to speak.

“Do you want to-”

“Sorry for just-”

They both cut off, fumbling to awkward stops. Klaus laughs, the sound harsh and wet. “Sorry, what were you saying?”

Dave runs a hand through his hair nervously. He’s pretty sure he looks a mess in his comfiest sweats and a shirt stained with pasta sauce from dinner, hair curling up from the late summer heat. He hopes the apartment isn’t in total disarray, but he’s pretty sure it is. “Do you want to come in?”

Apparently this was the right thing to say, because Klaus lets out a relieved sigh, following him inside. 

“Is Ben with you?” Dave asks. He feels the need to check around himself, even though he knows he won’t see the ghost. 

“Always,” sings Klaus. 

“Hi, Ben,” says Dave. “Do you want tea, Klaus? Have you eaten?”

Klaus looks at him for a moment, sitting very still. Dave doesn’t know him well, but he knows enough to realise that it is unusual for Klaus, who always seems to be in a constant state of movement. “I’m sober,” he blurts out.

“That’s- good?” Honestly, Dave isn’t totally sure that it _is_ good, considering what sobriety means for Klaus, but he doesn’t want to discourage him from working towards sobriety either. It’s complicated. Still, there’s no quick fix for that dilemma, so Dave focuses on what he can currently help with. “So, tea?”

“Yes, please,” says Klaus. He shivers slightly, despite the warm evening air.

Dave busies himself preparing the tea. He also rummages for an unopened packet of cookies; Klaus looks too skinny.

Klaus picks up the tea, but doesn't go for the cookies. 

"So, you're sober?" Dave prompts when Klaus continues to stare into his tea blankly.

Klaus pulls on a grin, but it looks too tight on his pale face. "Seven whole days. _Yay!"_

"Impressive," says Dave. It was a feat for any addict, let alone one in Klaus' unique situation.

"My sister just had a baby."

The non sequitur throws Dave, but he manages a bemused, "Congrats."

"Last time I saw her, she said she didn't want to see me unless I was sober," Klaus explains in a rush.

Dave tries to keep his expression neutral, despite the way his heart aches for Klaus. He can't imagine what it's like, having your family‘s presence be totally conditional on your sobriety. He knows that addition can be hard to deal with, but he's also certain that Klaus didn't deserve to be abandoned so harshly, all alone except for the ghost of his brother. Swallowing, he says, "So you want to see her?"

Klaus smiles. "I want to meet my niece. I have a plane ticket - please don't ask how - and I'm sober, so my sister might let me see her."

“Good for you,” he says softly. “I hope it goes well. Is there anything you need? Do you have enough money for your return ticket?”

A strange look crosses his face at that, before flitting back to easy amusement. “You really are a do-gooder, aren’t you?” Klaus says teasingly. “Don’t worry, my sister will buy one, I’m sure. Allison is loaded, and she’ll want to get rid of me as quickly as possible.”

“Oh,” Dave says in realisation, “she’s an actress, right?” 

“That’s the one,” responds Klaus.

Dave nods thoughtfully. If Klaus has the plane tickets taken care of, and a rich sister to fall back on, then… “I don’t mean to be rude,” says Dave carefully, “but is there something you need?” He cringes as soon as the words leave his mouth. It’s not the most tactful sentence ever, especially when he really doesn’t mind Klaus visiting (although the supernatural side of things, he could do without). “Not that you have to have a reason to visit! I just mean, it’s kind of- I mean, we don’t know each other that well, so it’s just a bit-”

Thankfully, Klaus doesn’t seem offended. Instead, his eyes crinkle with his grin, and he says, “Don’t worry, this isn’t a random booty call.”

Dave splutters, face going red. “I didn’t mean-”

“I’m only messing with you,” Klaus tells him goodnaturedly. “In fact… I am looking for a favour.”

Back on familiar ground, Dave says, “Sure thing. What do you need?”

At the question, Klaus goes back to being quiet and furtive, like he was when he first knocked on the door. He looks almost _shy,_ which seems a contradiction with Klaus’ bright, bold personality. Dave’s arms ache with the urge to pull Klaus into a hug, but he just holds his tea closer instead. 

Klaus seems to debate with himself silently for a moment - or maybe with Ben, who is almost certainly still in the room - before turning back to Dave, and saying, “I haven’t slept in six days.”

“Uh,” says Dave in wordless horror. “Six- what?”

“Yeah, its, uh-” Klaus laughs, the sound thin and sharp, “it’s been a while. It’s hard to sleep when I’m sober. Too much- Too much noise, I guess?” The breath he takes is loud and shaky. “And my flight is tomorrow afternoon and I don’t want to be so sleep deprived that Allison thinks I’m high, but the only way I can sleep is if I _do_ get high, and then Ben suggested…”

“Oh,” Dave says. “You want me to…?”

"I mean, it might not even work," says Klaus, "it might have been a one time thing…"

He tilts his head in thought. "Or maybe it'll happen again."

“It would be temporary,” Klaus adds, “just for a few hours, and then I’ll take them back and be out of your hair, I promise. I just- I’m really tired.”

Dave should say no. The ghosts are terrifying, and the hour he had spent with these powers last time had given him nightmares, so as nice as Ben seemed, he's in no rush to repeat the experience. Even as he's thinking this, though, he already knows he's going to say yes. If Klaus has managed to deal with these powers for twenty something years, then surely Dave can handle a few hours. Besides, can he really deny Klaus something so simple as sleep?

Swallowing his fear, Dave croaks, "Okay."

"Okay?" Klaus repeats, eyes wide.

"Yes," Dave says, bolstered by the amazement on Klaus' tired face. "I'm sure I can handle a few hours."

Klaus lets out a long breath. "Thank you. Really, thank you."

"It's no problem," Dave lies. "If it works, you can take my bed, get some sleep, yeah?"

"Oh, no, the couch is fine," says Klaus, "Honestly, I've slept in worse places than your couch."

"No, I insist," Dave says. "Besides, I doubt I'll get much sleep anyway."

Klaus grimaces. "Right. Sorry."

"Don't worry, I can handle it. Plus, no offence, but you look like you need sleep."

"Ouch," Klaus says, but he's laughing, so Dave counts it as a win.

Whilst Klaus finishes his tea, Dave changes his sheets and fishes out some pyjamas for him; the skin-tight shredded jeans he's wearing can't be that comfortable. He figures that, even if it doesn't work, maybe Klaus will be able to get a little sleep here anyway.

When he returns to the living room, Klaus looks at him anxiously, as if expecting Dave to change his mind. 

"Are you ready?" Dave asks, smiling through his nerves.

Klaus stands and steps closer. He eyes him warily, greedily. "Born ready," he says glibly.

Dave is expecting a handshake, or the touching of fingertips like last time, but it seems Klaus is too sleep deprived for anything so refined, because he steps forward and sinks into Dave instead. It's not quite a hug. Klaus doesn't bother raising his arms, doesn't hold him. It's just a simple meeting of bodies. Klaus leans into him, his head dropping on Dave's shoulder, and Dave hesitantly reaches up to pat him on the back. Honestly, he has no idea what's happening, and if the half asleep look on Klaus is any indication, he doesn't either. Without acknowledging the weirdness of it, Klaus just sighs happily, and slinks away into the bedroom.

He's so wrapped up in surprise, it takes a minute for the noise to register.

It isn't close. It's loud, though, even muffled by distance. It's the sound of dozens of shrieks and screams layered on top of each other, an incomprehensible buzz of pain, pushing at Daves eardrums like a physical pressure. Thankfully, none of it is coming from inside his apartment, but he can pick out shouting from upstairs, and sobbing from somewhere below. He imagines the street must be bad.

He takes a minute to ground himself, slowing his breath and sorting through his senses - other than sound, which he tries to ignore. He takes note of the sensation of carpet under his bare feet, of the fabric of his sweatpants. The walls are cream; the curtains are blue; the doors are an old varnished wood. Only when he feels calmer does he turn around.

He's expecting Ben, but something in his gut still lurches at finding him.

"Hi," Ben says uncertainly. He's watching him with a heavy gaze, as if waiting for something, perhaps for him to freak out like last time. 

Fortunately, this time Dave is better prepared, and when he says, "Hello," his voice is almost casual.

Ben startles slightly at being addressed. Dave wonders how often the guy talks to anyone who isn't Klaus. "Hi," he repeats, before snapping his mouth shut, a chagrined expression on his face.

Suppressing a laugh, Dave says, “I think we covered that.”

Groaning, Ben puts a hand over his face. "I think I'm out of practice."

This time, Dave does laugh. "If it's any consolation," he says, "you've still got the best conversational skills of any of the dead guys I know."

"A low bar, but I'll take it," says Ben. He rocks on his heels, looking around the room, looking vaguely lost and younger than he should.

"Movies?" Dave blurts.

"Um. What about them?"

Dave grimaces. "I meant, like. Do you want to watch one? I don't think I'll be getting any sleep, and I'm guessing that you don't… need to?"

Ben lights up, and says, "Hell yes! What movies do you have?"

It turns out that the pair share a fondness for fantasy, and a distaste for horror, and they end up watching the new _The Hobbit_ movie _,_ which has only just come out on tape. Apparently, Ben hadn't gotten a chance to see it at the cinema, since Klaus was in rehab at the time, and he hadn't wanted to leave his brother to fend for himself whilst sober. Dave ends up putting the subtitles on. He hasn't had too much trouble hearing Ben, but distinguishing between sounds from the movie's battle scene and the cries of the dead outside the window is near impossible, and Dave doesn't want to turn the volume up and risk waking Klaus.

After the movie ends, they spend a while criticising and considering the ways the book was better, but the conversation ends up derailing into mindless chatter. Dave is just sleep deprived enough to feel loose and limbless. Ben seems wide awake, the bastard, and determined to keep the conversation going. It must be hard, having no one to talk to but your brother and the hoards of ghosts which seem to do nothing but wail.

“So, excited about seeing your niece?” asks Dave.

“Yeah! I can’t believe I’m an uncle,” Ben says, pressing his cheeks into the palms of his hands. “I mean, technically I died before she was born, but still.”

“Still counts,” Dave concurs. 

Ben beams widely. “And plus, I think babies can see ghosts sometimes. I’m not sure, but I swear, a couple times I’ve seen a baby staring at me. I mean, maybe not, babies do just stare sometimes…”

“Nah, I can believe it. They always look like they’re staring into your soul, you know?” Dave says with a playful shiver.

"Why does it seem like you're more scared of babies than you are of ghosts?" teases Ben.

"Simple," Dave says. "Because babies are scarier."

"Man, have you _seen_ the other ghosts? They're straight out of a horror movie!" 

Dave shakes his head, expression solemn, and says, "You're forgetting about the true fear: _responsibility."_

Ben laughs at this a little harder than Dave thinks the joke deserves. "Don't you work at the VA?"

"My vets don't need me to clean their asses for them," Dave says, throwing an arm across his face. His eyes are starting to ache.

"Gross," says Ben. "How did you end up working there?"

"Got shot," he says vaguely.

Tentatively, Ben says, "Were you a soldier?"

Dave hums an affirmative.

"Well, I'm glad you didn't die."

Squinting open one eye, Dave says, "Thanks, I think."

"It's nice to talk to someone alive. Plus… it's nice for Klaus. It's hard for him, dealing with the ghosts, and I don't think he would have been able to stay sober long enough to see our niece, otherwise," Ben says softly.

"Happy to help," says Dave, and it isn't even a lie. "I think I'm going to see if I can catch some sleep. Do you want me to put a movie on for you?"

Ben lights up. "Fellowship of the Ring?"

"On it," Dave says. 

In the end, after some tossing and turning, Dave does manage a light doze. It doesn't last long.

The screaming wakes him up.

Dave is on his feet in a heartbeat, hands already up and defensive, before he can even open his eyes and see what's going on.

In all honesty, Dave had never been a very good soldier. 

He had enlisted straight out of high school, just like his dad had, and despite his mother's pleading, but before he had even finished basic, he knew it was a mistake. He just couldn't conscribe to the 'shoot first, ask questions never' way of thinking. Generally, this was something he was glad of. Too many times, he had seen people die because of US troops being so unwilling to hesitate, and every time a suspect individual turned out to be an innocent bystander, Dave thanked God that he hadn't taken the shot.

He wasn't sorry for that. But he was sorry for Hopkins.

Hopkins had been a new recruit, and the only guy younger than Dave. He was nervous and jittery, the kind of guy that Dave hated, because he would pull out his gun at just about any civilian that looked at him too long.

And then one day, under the scorching arid sun, there had been a man on his cell phone.

They had been clearing the street, waiting for the bomb squad to roll in, everyone tense as hell and terrified with each step. It was a populated area, with civilians who were scared and confused, and Dave speaking broken Dari mixed with English didn't help all that much, but they did get most of the area clear.

Except for one.

His squad zeroed in on the guy, watching with a cell phone in hand. Dave was easily the closest. He tried to tell him to drop the phone, indicating at it with his gun, but the man just looked at him, unreadable. Dave's squad were yelling, telling him to _do something,_ because if that cell phone was a remote detonator, any one of them could be dead within a second, but Dave just thought, what if he was trying to call his mom? What if he was just reading a text from a friend? What if he's totally innocent, and Dave shot him dead?

So many times, Dave's hesitation had saved lives. So many times, he had deescalated situations, and everyone walked away safe.

This time, the man triggered the bomb.

The thing movies always get wrong about explosions is, they don't actually look all that dramatic, not like you'd think. The IEDs that are usually found in this war don't have huge, billowing flames. They're loud, and stir the dust, but they don't look that huge. It's not the fire that kills you. It's the percussive force. The blast wave hits you with such high pressure that your internal organs rupture and bleed, and sometimes from the outside you look perfectly fine whilst you die.

So as Hopkins bled out from the inside, he didn't look all that injured. His jaw was dislocated, and his wrist was broken, but none of them had really known the seriousness of the situation until he started choking on blood.

Dave has two major regrets in life. The second is letting Hopkins die from his inaction, from his unwillingness to intercede. The first is enlisting at all.

He had talked about all this, and reached a rocky sort of peace with it. You don't get to be a counsellor without dealing with your own issues first. So he might never quite forgive himself, but he doesn't obsess over it like he did when he first got home.

Even with all that, Dave hadn't been ready to see the ghost of Hopkins in his living room.

Ben is standing between them, but it's not enough to shield Dave entirely. Hopkins has one finger pointing at Dave in obvious accusation, his face contorted with rage, eyes bulging and furious. He's shouting, shrieking, but with his jaw dislocated it's hard to make anything out. He looks… young.

When it had all gone down, Dave had been only a year older than the guy, but now some time has passed, he realises that Hopkins really had been just a kid, the same as Dave. The terror that had gripped him loosens slightly at the thought, melting down into a mournful regret for things that could have been.

"Hey, Hopkins," Dave says.

Hopkins startles at being addressed, voice failing for a moment, before his yelling resumes, this time less wild, more direct, but Dave still can't make it any words.

"I can't understand what you're saying," Dave says gently, "but I can tell you're angry at me, right?"

He receives a furious nod which makes his dislocated jaw move unnaturally. Hopkins doesn't seem to notice, and Dave belatedly hopes that ghosts can't feel pain.

"Yeah, that makes sense. I've been pretty mad at myself, too," Dave admits. His voice has gone crackly, so he swallows, tries to get himself under control. This isn't about him. "I'm sorry for what happened. I know it's not fair that I'm alive, and you're dead, when it was my fault it happened."

Hopkins says something, but all Dave makes out is the '- _uck'_ sound of a swear.

"Yeah," Dave says with a strangled laugh, heart in his throat. "Yeah. I've spent a lot of time thinking about it, thinking about all the things I could have done differently, the ways I could have saved you. I would trade places, if I could."

His answer is a ragged breath and wet eyes.

Quietly, Dave confesses, "I just didn't want to kill anyone." He pulls his head in his hands, squeezing his eyes tightly shut against the burn of tears. What right does he have to cry? Dave's not the one who died. "I'm just so sorry, man."

He opens his eyes, and Hopkins is gone.

"Holy shit," Ben murmurs. "That was… kind of awesome."

Dave gives a vague, dazed nod, and then rushes to the bathroom to vomit.

He doesn't sleep any more after that. Instead, he bundles himself in a blanket, although it doesn't stop him from trembling, and resigns himself to wakefulness, a mug of coffee in hand. Ben suggests another movie, and they watch silently. He seems wide eyed after the thing with Hopkins, and Dave can't tell if he's judging him or just nervous about making things worse. Dave sure as hell doesn’t know what to say about it. 

Not too long later, Klaus emerges from the bedroom. His curls are sticking up on one side, flat on the other, and his eyes are puffy from sleep, but his expression is serene, posture relaxed and open, even though he definitely didn’t catch a full eight hours. 

“Morning my darlings,” he sings, chipper despite the early hour.

Dave raises his coffee mug. “Morning.”

Klaus plops down on the sofa next to him, and asks, “How was your little sleep over?”

“It was fine,” Dave says wanly. “We watched some movies.”

“Oh, good, now Ben can stop moaning about how little I take him to the cinema,” says Klaus. “Anyway, I suppose we should be out of your hair now, hm?”

He sits up, blinking. “Oh, no hurry. You can stay for breakfast, take a shower, if you’d like.”

Archly, Klaus questions, “Are you trying to tell me something?”

“No!” Dave denies. “No, sorry, I just meant-”

Klaus waves him off. “Just kidding. A shower would be divine, actually. I don’t want to greet my niece still smelling like- well, better left unsaid.”

In the corner of his vision, Ben wrinkles his nose.

After collecting a clean towel, Dave offers some clothes to borrow, but Klaus turns him down - apparently it isn't to his taste. Compromising, Dave suggests he runs Klaus' stuff through the wash. He has to flee when Klaus starts stripping off without even shutting the door. Dave throws over his shoulder, "Just leave the stuff you want washed outside the door," and he hears Klaus make a noise like confusion, but he doesn't dare turn around to check.

Whilst Klaus showers, Dave starts on breakfast, interrogating Ben on his brother's food preferences. Fortunately, Dave owns a waffle iron. He hasn't made any in a while, so he's no expert, but the batter isn't too complicated, and they end up looking pretty good, even if he doesn't have any whipped cream to go on top.

Klaus enters in a cloud of steam, borrowed flannel pants low on his hips. A towel is wrapped around his hair at an improbable height. "Do I smell waffles?"

"Yeah," Dave says, "I don't know how good they are, but they're definitely waffles."

"Oh, I love waffles! They're my-" Klaus blinks, shakes his head. "Well, I assume Ben told you already."

Dave confirms, "He did," as he plates up the waffles.

"Ben, you're my favourite brother. And Dave, my favourite non-brother."

Despite the slight nonsense of it, Dave finds himself flushing at the strange complement. 

The waffles do taste pretty good, and Klaus praises them wildly, although he doesn't finish his - withdrawal isn't quite done with him, it seems. Dave makes some tea; he's had too much coffee, and now he feels even more jittery than earlier. The beep of the washing machine makes him twitch, and he fumbles as he switches the clothes to the dryer, trying not to stare too long at the hot pink panties that Klaus must have been wearing.

"They shouldn't take too long," says Dave, leaving back against the kitchen counter. "When's your flight?"

Klaus checks the clock. "Not for another five hours."

"I can drive you to the airport, if you'd like?" Dave offers. He's the kind of neurotic idiot that always gets there a few hours early for no real reason, but he suspects Klaus is a last minute kind of guy.

Expression uncertain, Klaus says, "Are you sure? It's a little far away."

Dave waves off his concern. "I've got nothing else to do today."

"Okay, then," Klaus says with a small smile. His leg is bobbing up and down like mad, and Dave isn't sure whether it's the lingering withdrawal or just plain anxiety. 

"Do you have any… stuff?" Dave asks, wincing as soon as the words leave his mouth. He works with vets; homelessness is pretty obvious, if you know what you're looking for. "I mean, do we need to pick anything up before we leave?"

Klaus grins wolfishly. "Nah, I like to travel light."

Biting his lip, Dave nods, not wanting to cross a line that he can't see. In the end, he softly says, "You can borrow some stuff, I'd you'd like. Y'know, pyjamas, spare clothes, that sort of thing. I think I have a spare toothbrush, even."

After a moment of hesitation, Klaus asks, "Aren't you worried I might just steal it all, never come back?" His tone is light, but his eyes are heavy.

"Not really," Dave says easily.

"Hmm. Not sure of that's sweet or just stupid," muses Klaus.

Cracking a grin, Dave says, "Why not both?"

In the end, Klaus does accept Dave's spare toothbrush and pyjamas rolled up in an old gym bag, if nothing else but to convince his sister that he's got himself together, apparently. Dave is just happy that he has something comfortable to wear.

Just before they leave, Dave pauses. He hates to ask, but at the same time, he imagines that driving might be difficult if he can't determine who's living and who's dead. "Uh, should we- swap back now?"

Watching Klaus' eyes shutter makes something heavy pool in his gut, but Klaus is quick to compensate. "No problemo, my dude." He holds a wavering hand between them - apparently last night's not-hug was a fluke, a product of his sleep deprivation - and Dave hopes he doesn't look disappointed as he takes his hand. It's a small touch, just a brushing of palms, but it sends a shiver down his spine all the same.

The silence is somehow louder than the wall of sound had been. His ears ring with it, and it makes Dave feel dizzy, and strangely alone.

Klaus smiles at someone unseen - Ben, most likely - before turning back to Dave. His smile has turned thin and sharp at the edges, but he sounds chipper when he says, “Better get going! If I miss my flight, I’ll never hear the end of it.”

It’s strange, Dave thinks, that despite not being able to see Ben, he can almost see the space left behind in his absence. He imagines that it confuses people a lot, Klaus’ behaviour, but knowing both Klaus and Ben a little better now, it’s not hard to understand. Klaus calls shotgun as they get in the car, because of course, he’s not the only passenger, and he shushes someone as he skips through radio channels, because of course, someone is speaking, even if Dave can’t hear or see them. It makes something sad and protective burn in his gut, thinking about how Klaus has grown up alone in this odd middle place, hearing both sides and navigating that line, whilst others have no hope of understanding what it’s like. It’s a paradox. His power connects Klaus to people, and at the same time, isolates him so totally. 

As he pulls the car into the drop off zone, Dave attempts (and fails) to clamp down on his mother hen instinct. “Do you have everything you need? Have you got enough money for the taxi from the airport?”

Waving him off, Klaus says, “I’ll be fine. Ben’ll make sure I get there okay, don’t you worry.” His hand briefly lifts, as if to touch Dave, maybe a jovial punch on the shoulder or a fleeting touch to his arm, but he falters in mid air, and turns it into a finger gun. “Thanks for- well, everything. I owe you one.”

“No, you really don’t,” Dave says, too earnestly by half, and he internally cringes at himself.

Klaus gives him a strange look for a moment, mouth twisting and puckered, eyes burning hot, before he glances away. “Ben says bye,” he mutters, all but launching himself out of the car. 

“Bye, Ben!” Dave calls after him. Then, quieter, mostly to himself: “Bye, Klaus.”

If Klaus hears him, he doesn’t turn around.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> updating this now just in case i get distracted with season 2. i do intend to keep updating regularly, but best laid plans and all that
> 
> tw for allusions to dub-con and addiction

The days pass swiftly once more. 

Dave, in quiet moments, imagines Klaus in the kind of fancy house that might belong to an A-list celebrity, with clean, warm sheets on a luxurious bed, and access to plenty of good food and as many hot baths as he likes. It settles something inside of him. He knows he can’t save everyone, can’t fix all the world’s wrongs - a difficult lesson to learn, but as a counsellor, Dave’s had to learn it the hard way - but he’s glad that this one person is safe. 

Belatedly, he regrets not giving Klaus or Ben his number. He'd feel better, knowing that they could call in an emergency (or even just for a chat), and he resolves himself to remember next time.

He tries not to worry as the weeks pass. Besides, it's not like he just sits at home twiddling his thumbs. He's busy with work, and then takes a weekend to visit home, sitting through a semi awkward dinner with his parents, who are well meaning, but don't really get him as a person.

When Dave does hear the knock at his door, he can't help but feel a small thrill of excitement. It's probably just a delivery guy or something like that, but still, he's hopeful.

As it is, his intuition was right. Klaus stands - or, sways - in the doorway, eyes unfocused and distant, before finally landing on Dave, and blinking fast. "Dave," he says, dragging the vowel out.

"Hi," Dave says warmly. "Wanna come in?"

Klaus doesn't answer, half stumbling inside and half diving onto the couch, sprawling out at an uncomfortable looking angle.

Dave shuts the door, feeling somewhere between concerned and amused. "You okay there?"

"Mm," hums Klaus into the couch cushions. "Soft."

"Uh, that's… good," Dave says. He palms the back of his neck, considering whether it's safe to sit in the armchair or not. "Is Ben here?"

"Ugh. Yes," Klaus says mulishly. He waves a clumsy hand at thin air.

In the same vague direction, Dave says, "Hi, Ben," before taking a seat in the armchair. 

Klaus lifts his head. "No, no _hi Ben._ Bad Ben."

"Bad Ben?" Dave echoes blankly.

"Mm, bad Ben. He's- _asshole_." Klaus drops his head back down, pressing himself face first into the cushion.

Clearly he isn't going to get a good explanation any time soon. He leaves Klaus to the couch cushions, going to the kitchen to pour some water, and opening a packet of crackers.

When he returns, Klaus is shucking his shoes with a single minded focus that speaks of being seriously smashed. His face lights up when he sees Dave. "Hey! I missed you!"

"I was only in the kitchen," Dave says, trying to keep the fond amusement off his face.

"That's so far," sighs Klaus, grabbing the glass, only to grimace when he takes a sip. "Ew, water?"

Dave says, "I'm afraid so," and retreats to his armchair.

Grumbling, Klaus starts to pick at the crackers instead. Then, he notices the slip of paper that Dave had put next to the crackers. "What's this?"

"My number," says Dave. "Just in case you ever need help, or just- you know, want to talk, or whatever."

He doesn't move for a long moment, long enough that Dave has the urge to snatch the paper back and pretend he had never offered, but eventually Klaus nods quietly, folding the paper neatly and slipping it into his pocket. There's something morose in the line of his shoulders.

Answers don't seem forthcoming, so Dave ventures, "So what's Ben done wrong?"

Klaus frowns, thinking hard, before a look of devastation passes over his face. "You're mad at me."

"What?" asks Dave, thrown.

"Ben told me so," he replies.

Lost, Dave says, "Ben told you... that I'm mad at you?"

He nods slowly, frowning down at the cracker in his hand.

"I don't understand," says Dave. "Why would I be mad at you?"

Lifting one shoulder in a half hearted shrug, Klaus says, "Your stuff."

"My stuff?"

"Your pyjamas and spare clothes and shit," Klaus says, abandoning his cracker on the coffee table. He lets his head drop back onto the couch with a sigh.

"I don't- What about them?" Dave asks.

Another shrug. Klaus peers at him for a moment, indecisive, before saying, "I swapped 'em with some homeless guy for a bottle of vodka."

Honestly, it's... almost a relief. The anticipation had left Dave imagining all sorts of horrible scenarios. The things he had lent Klaus had been just that: things. Nothing of worth. It isn't ideal, of course, but in the grand scheme of things, it's nothing to be too upset over, and he hadn't been naive enough to lend Klaus anything he needed back. "Alright," says Dave. 

Klaus blinks at him. His pale, long fingers twist together in anxiety, but he smiles tremulously. "I can pay you back?" he suggests. "Not right now, but when I have money."

"No, that's okay," Dave rushes to assure him. The thought of taking money from someone so desperately poor as Klaus makes his chest hurt.

He thinks for a moment, before sitting forward on his seat. "Do you want drugs? I mean, not the hard stuff - that shit's _bad for you -_ but, like, I can hook you up with some weed?"

"Oh, uh, no thanks," says Dave. "Not really my thing."

Klaus purses his lips, fingers drumming out a fast rhythm on his knee.

"You don't need to pay me back," Dave says softly, not sure how to convince him.

"Mmm," he hums. For a moment, he stills, and Dave thinks he might have stopped breathing - and then he's up, launching forward clumsily, and all too fast, he's planted himself on Dave's lap.

Dave freezes. "What-"

Their faces are so close together that Dave could count each individual eyelash, and the green of his eyes is piercing and deep, staring into him, almost hypnotic. "What about this?"

"What about what?" Dave chokes out.

Klaus is a warm weight on top of him, towering over him dizzily, and he reaches up with one hand to draw a humming line down Dave's jaw. "I give," Klaus says, "really good head."

" _What?"_ wheezes Dave.

Smiling, Klaus says, "You'll like it, promise."

"No, I- I don't think that's a good idea," he stammers. 

Klaus falters briefly, but his smile stays on. "No? I'm really good at it. If you close your eyes, you can pretend I'm a girl."

Dave briefly resists the urge to shove Klaus away from him. He feels choked, smothered, but he doesn't want to hurt him, so he just says, slow and clear, "Klaus, please get off me."

Something flashes across his face, too fast to read, and then he's pushing off of Dave, throwing himself back in a tumble of limbs, and dropping onto the floor. "Oh," he mumbles. "My bad."

Frozen somewhere between wanting to help Klaus up, and being terrified of pressuring Klaus into touching him, Dave sits with his hands somewhere between them. "Sorry," he says.

"This is just painful to watch."

Dave startles at the dry voice. "Oh. Hi, Ben." Somehow, in his panic, he had failed to notice the hum of noise that should have been impossible to ignore. 

Ben smiles thinly. "Dave."

"You have my powers," Klaus notes to himself quietly. Then, he leaps to his feet, and sprints out of the apartment.

"Shit," breathes Ben.

"Oh, fuck," Dave concurs, fumbling to slip his shoes on before he starts after him.

The night is cool, summer slipping away from them, but fortunately dry, and Dave can just about see Klaus turning the corner further up the street. He runs. Despite being pretty in shape, Klaus has a head start, and he's _fast_ , faster than a homeless addict really should be, all long, unsteady limbs propelling him forward into the night. Dave takes the turn, but Klaus isn't in sight. He swears.

A shriek. Dave whirls around, heart in his throat, pulse in his hands. In the road, a woman is lying on her side, attempting to shove her guts back into her stomach, and failing. She looks at him. Cries out for him. He can’t move, can’t do anything, because _doesn’t she know that she’s already dead?_

Then Ben is at his side. "This way," he urges Dave.

He forces himself to turn his back on the sobbing woman.

Ben leads him around a corner, into a narrow alley that the glow of the street lamp barely reaches. A little way in, Klaus is standing, propped up, chest heaving. As soon as he notices Dave, he tenses, ready to run, but Dave has inadvertently blocked the exit. 

“Hey,” says Dave, moving to the side so that Klaus could get past. “Are you okay?”

“Don’t come near me!” Klaus yells shrilly.

Uncertain, he trades a look with Ben, who’s watching with an exasperated air. “I won’t,” says Dave. “I’ll stay right here, okay?”

Klaus looks suspicious, but doesn’t make a run for it, instead leaning back against the wall. He looks unsteady. “Don’t touch me,” he says under his breath.

“I won’t,” Dave says again, feeling inexplicably guilty, even though his intentions had been good. He doesn’t like the idea of anyone being scared of him.

Klaus nods. Eyelids fluttering closed, he slides down the wall, crossing his legs underneath him. His bare feet are barely illuminated, and Dave can’t tell if they are dark with dirt or blood. “M’kay.”

Dave chews his lip, unsure how to precede, before he sits down too. The alley floor is damp, and he’s probably lucky that he can’t see how gross it is. Still, it allows him to see Klaus’ face a little, even with the wide stretch of space between them.

Quietly, Klaus asks, “Are you mad at me?”

“No,” says Dave. “No, I’m not mad. Why would I be mad?”

Klaus opens his eyes to shoot him a withering look. “I gave away your stuff.”

“It’s just stuff,” Dave says with a shrug.

“But…” Klaus trails off, frowning to himself, like he’s trying to work out a complex puzzle. 

“But what?” 

From a pocket in his (too thin) jacket, Klaus produces a cigarette, and lights it with shaking hands after a long few seconds of failing. “Ben said you wouldn’t want to take my powers anymore if I stole shit from you,” he mumbles, eyes focused on the smoke.

Dave turns to Ben. “Dude.”

“What?” Ben says defensively. “He was stealing from you to break his sobriety!”

He sighs. “Look, I’m not saying I love the bit where my spare clothes got traded, but I don’t think that scaring him away from his support system is a helpful reaction.”

“Oh, _you’re_ his support system now? You barely know him! _I’m_ the one who has to watch himself get almost killed on a daily basis,” argues Ben, throwing his hands up in exasperation.

Shit. “Okay, that’s fair,” Dave says carefully, “but still, I don’t want him to think he can’t come to me for help if he needs it. Okay?”

Ben sighs. “I’m just trying to keep him sober,” he says.

“I get that,” says Dave. “But I want him to be safe, whether he’s sober or not. Either way, I’m here.”

“So,” says Ben, with a challenge in his eyes, “are you sure you aren’t going to get bored of him once you work this little crush out of your system?”

Dave splutters. “That’s not- I don’t- It isn’t like that!”

Voice serious, Ben says, “I’ve seen this before. People think he’s cute, and funny, and want to save him. And then they realise he’s a real person, and suddenly they’re not interested anymore.” He looks at Klaus, mouth twisting sadly. “This time, it’s gonna hurt worse, because it’s not a bed he needs, or food. This time, it’s something only you can give him.”

“I’m not going to do that,” Dave says earnestly. “You can trust me.”

“I guess that remains to be seen,” Ben muses.

Waving his cigarette, Klaus interjects, “I’m really not a fan of only hearing half the conversation, you know.”

He flushes. “Sorry.”

Klaus hums. His eyes dart between Dave and the mouth of the alley, as if assessing whether he can make an escape before Dave can touch him.

“If you don’t want your powers back,” Dave blurts, “I won’t make you.”

Eyes narrowed, Klaus asks, “Why did you chase me, then?”

“Oh.” Dave finally holds out the items he had carried out of the apartment. “You forgot your shoes.”

He stares for a long moment at the shoes in Dave’s hands. Then, he barks out a laugh, the sound staccato and halting. “My shoes.”

“Yeah,” says Dave, grateful that it’s too dark to see his blush. “Sorry, I probably should have mentioned that earlier.”

“Dude,” says Klaus, with the air of someone about to impart some great wisdom, “have you considered that there’s something deeply wrong with you?”

Dave considers this. “Frequently… but I don’t think this is one of those times.”

“Beg to differ,” says Klaus. “Okay, shoes, please.” He makes grabby hands, despite still sitting a good couple metres away.

“Do I just throw them?” Dave asks, frowning. He doesn’t want to scuff the leather.

Klaus rolls his eyes. “Look, I stole them from some asshole I slept with, so they aren’t exactly new to begin with.”

He tosses them with extreme caution, wincing when Klaus’ delayed reaction lets one of them hit the concrete. “Sorry.”

Pulling the shoes on, Klaus says, “So if that’s the only reason you chased me, I guess you won’t mind me leaving now?”

With a helpless look towards Ben, Dave says, "I guess so."

"Alright then," says Klaus, skirting past Dave with his back to the wall. "Well. Nice seeing you."

"Uh, yeah, you too," says Dave, from where he's sitting on the cold ground.

Ben stands close to Klaus, unseen, and the look of betrayal on his face is enough that Dave has to look away. "You can't just…" he trails off, hopeless, before suddenly turning to Dave. "You have to do something, you have to stop him!"

"I can't-"

"Yes, you can," says Ben. "You're faster than him, just touch him and leave-"

Dave bites out, "I'm not in the habit of touching anyone without permission, thanks."

"Tell Ben," Klaus says suddenly, eyes heavy, "tell him…"

Ben stands frozen still. Suspended.

He shakes his head. "Fuck it. He already knows," Klaus says with a rueful smile, before melting back into the night.

Watching him go, Ben looks untethered, and suddenly very afraid. "I- what do I do?" 

But Dave has no answers for him. Hell, Dave's wondering the exact same thing.

The walk home is not quiet. In fact, for Dave, nothing is going to be quiet for a long time.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw for violence/domestic abuse/substance abuse/self destructive tendencies 
> 
> a slightly shorter one than usual lads

Dave is-

He's just-

He's just so damn _tired._

Tired has become the new norm for him, along with fun new quirks like his speakers always being turned up high, and his habit of showering in the dark. This is what coping looks like. And he's dealing with it, really, he is. He still gets out of bed every day, and eats at least twice, and is still working - although, he's been working from home these days, mostly admin stuff and answering emails. His group leader days are behind him, it seems. It's hard to listen to his vets when he can't hear them over the screams. And there's always screams. Always.

So, he's coping. He's drinking, too, but only in the evenings, and only enough that he can get a little sleep, which is practically impossible if he's stone cold sober. 

He looks terrible, he knows. These days, he tries to avoid looking in the mirror, afraid of seeing a ghost, but more afraid that the ghost will be wearing his own face. Shaving has gone by the wayside, since his hands shake hard enough that he always ends up cutting himself when he tries. His eyes are puffy and shadowed, and the snatches of disturbed sleep are never enough to soothe them.

Socialising has become a distant memory, too. He tried, at first, to keep up with his friends, but leaving the house is terrifying, and crowds suffocating, when he can’t tell which of them are really there. Increasingly, he’s avoided having anyone over to visit, unable to meet their concerned gazes. Leanne - a coworker from the VA who he’s always been close with - has come over a few times anyway, not easily deterred, bringing home cooked meals and making sly comments about seeing a counsellor. It just makes Dave feel guilty. He always preaches the benefits of therapy, but what’s a therapist going to do for a literal haunting? Dave doesn’t need a counsellor, he needs an exorcist.

He had tried talking to his rabbi, back at the start, but Dave hadn't managed to convince him that these ghosts were the literal kind, and nothing so simple as an extensive metaphor.

Ben visits, sometimes. He mostly follows Klaus, an unseen shadow, but when he’s sick of his words going unheard, and he thinks Klaus isn’t in any immediate danger, he seeks Dave out. They talk. Sometimes about Klaus, sometimes about nothing much. They waste hours watching fantasy movies and bad sci fi shows, debating scientific validity, or criticising the forced romance arcs. Other times, Ben talks about the academy; it’s only ever little snippets, but it always gives Dave a stomach ache thinking about it. He does get to hear about their visit to Allison, and how adorable their niece is. Dave’s glad that they got to meet her. Apparently their sister had been wary of Klaus, but eventually had cautiously accepted that he had gotten sober to see her, and Ben grinned the entire time he spoke about it.

On bad days, they argue. Ben wants Dave to hunt down Klaus, to pass the powers back over, and Dave wants to be rid of these powers too - wants it so bad he can barely breathe - but he won’t do that to Klaus. It’s the least he can do. Klaus survived this curse for years, and surely he deserves a break, deserves to know what it’s like to have his own space, his own privacy. Dave can give that to him. So isn’t it his moral duty, to help Klaus, to help shoulder the burden?

Some days, he thinks about it. Obsesses about it, really, about how easy it would be. Ben would tell him where, and then he would just have to get close enough to touch-

The fantasy airways dissolves around there. He can't stand the thought of putting his hands on someone against their permission, even in these bizarre circumstances.

So he copes. Badly. With working from home, he's dropped a lot of hours, and barely makes rent, but the tight budget doesn't matter when he never has an appetite or an urge to go anywhere. He should take care of himself better, he knows, but it's hard when every move he makes feels like it's being observed. Even when he's the only person in the apartment, he can't shake it, the sense of being watched. 

The ghosts aren't always close, but he can always hear them. When they do find him, they're rarely coherent, and Dave can do nothing but wait for the screaming to stop, wait for them to get distracted and leave to scream at someone else. If the ghost is a more rational one, Dave tries to help, although it doesn't give Dave much relief. Even if he does manage to get one ghost to move on, another takes its place, and the next one can't be consoled with careful words and compassionate smiles.

So, when Ben rushes in with wide, furious, terrified eyes, and says, "His boyfriend- I think he's going to hurt Klaus, he needs help, please-"

Of course he says yes. Of course.

It probably isn't safe, driving like this, sleep deprived and seeing spectres at every corner, always braced to hit the brake because he can't be totally certain that the ghost in the road is really a ghost, but he doesn't stop to consider it. He needs to get to Klaus, and fast.

Ben directs him to a surprisingly nice part of town, all big houses and long drives, and stops them at an inconspicuous, modestly wealthy house. There's nothing about the place that suggests violence. It isn't until Dave is right at the front door that he can make out the shouts of the living ringing out over the cries of the dead.

The door is open when he tries the handle.

He walks inside, taking care to keep his footsteps light, scanning every doorway he passes - even now, years later, he finds himself employing those military tactics when he's in a volatile situation, despite his training as a counsellor. It’s been even worse recently. When he does manage to sleep, his alcohol soaked dreams are always of war, of bloodshed, and he doesn’t even have to imagine what the screaming of the dying sounds like when it’s always ringing in his ears.

The yelling is coming from the kitchen. Dave hesitates, hand on the door, heart in his throat, whilst Ben disappears inside.

"-if you hadn't behaved like a whore,"the man's voice echoed down the hall, "we could have had a perfectly nice evening, but no, you had to ruin it-"

"I told you I was sorry," Klaus says petulantly. He doesn't sound afraid, but from the slur of his words, he probably isn't too sober either.

There’s a disgusted snort. “Oh, you said you were _sorry,”_ he says snidely. “How stupid do you think I am?”

A contemplative silence. Then, “Do you really want me to answer that?”

_Thump._

Dave is moving before he can even think, bursting in on them. The kitchen is a mess, broken glass everywhere, and pinned against the wall is Klaus. The boyfriend has his hands fisted in his shirt, face a snarl, not even letting go as he turns to see who has walked in on them. And Klaus-

He has a bloody lip. 

He has a bloody lip, because this stranger - _his boyfriend -_ had bloodied it. 

Dave sees red. 

His hands move of their own volition, grabbing the stranger and wrenching him away, and in the same swift movement, he punches him in the teeth; a taste of his own medicine. Then, before the guy can drop, Dave hauls him up by the collar of his shirt, and throws another bruising punch, this time across his nose. The sounds of it cracking under his fist is glorious. Dave finally lets go, and he goes down hard, boneless, unconscious.

 _“Holy fuck,”_ someone says. Ben, maybe. He can barely hear them over the ringing in his ears, and the angry-hungry- _bloodthirsty_ shrieks of the dead. 

“Dave?”

He looks up from the blood on his knuckles to find Klaus staring at him, eyes wide. “Klaus,” he says roughly. Dave should probably be- helping. Right? Klaus is- injured, high, scared (scared of him?) and his lip is still bleeding, ruby red. “Are you okay?”

“What the fuck,” Klaus says. “What are you doing here?”

“I… Ben. He said you needed help, so I-”

“So- So what?” he interrupts, a savage smile playing on his lips. “You thought you’d come and save me? Play the hero?”

Dave doesn’t know. Why did he come here? “He was hurting you,” he says in the end.

“So?”

Bewildered, Dave asks, “What do you mean, _so?_ He was hurting you!”

Klaus is shaking, but his eyes are fire. “I was _fine._ I’ve been doing fine on my own, I don’t need some asshole swooping in like I’m some damsel in distress!”

It might have been more convincing, but Dave can’t see past the blood that has trailed down Klaus’ chin. “He hit you,” he says desperately. “Klaus, you were in danger, I had to-”

“No. No, you didn’t _have to,”_ Klaus says coldly. “I didn’t ask you - or Ben - to save me.”

“But-”

 _“No._ Shut up, just- stop,” he barrels on. “You didn’t come here to help me; don’t kid yourself. You wanted the little ego boost, maybe, to feel like a big, brave man. This was never about me.”

Dave says, “That’s not true,” but it sounds weak, even to his own ears. He isn’t sure, really, why he came here. Maybe it was to help Klaus. Or maybe he just wanted a fight, wanted the excitement. Maybe he had just been hoping Klaus would be _oh so grateful,_ grateful enough to take these powers back. He doesn’t know anymore.

The boyfriend groans on the floor, edging towards consciousness.

“Go,” demands Klaus. “Get out of here.”

“But what if he tries to-”

Klaus shakes his head. “He’s not going to do anything I don’t want him to. I started combat training when I was four, I can take him if things get out of hand.”

Privately, Dave thinks that maybe that’s even worse. “Will you, though?”

He looks away. “That’s none of your business. Go. And tell Ben to quit stalking me.”

“Tell him yourself,” Dave says softly. “He’s right there.”

A complex, wobbly expression passes over his face. "Well. I guess he heard me the first time."

Ben turns away. His arms are locked around his torso, and his hood is up high.

"He misses you," Dave says with a note of finality.

Klaus sniffs. "This little guilt trip won't work."

"I'm not trying to-" Dave cuts himself off with a sigh. "Alright. I'll leave. Sorry for- everything."

"Yeah," says Klaus. "Bye."

Dave nods, stepping past the boyfriend, still sprawled on the floor, only to pause in the doorway. "Klaus, are you… are you happy?"

He looks up sharply, and his eyes are wild and hunted. "Yes," he says roughly. Dave can't tell if he's lying.

"Okay," Dave says, even though nothing about this is _okay_. “Okay.”

And then he leaves.

Ben doesn't follow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope y'all are enjoying season 2! (no spoilers in the comments please, but feel free to say whether you like/love/didn't love it <3)


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for jess<3

Dave's gone back to therapy. 

He had avoided it long enough, pretending not to hear Leanne's suggestions, or his bosses recommendations, telling himself that there’s nothing a qualified professional can do to mitigate _actual, literal ghosts._ The justifications had to slowly start slipping away, and then, after the incident with Klaus, all at once. Maybe a therapist couldn’t do much against the spirits, but Dave isn’t dead yet. He is here, and he is a person, and people need help sometimes. So. Back to therapy.

It’s frustrating, sometimes, because his therapist never tells him anything that he doesn’t, rationally, know already. Dave’s a registered counselor, so he knows all tips and techniques. Still, it does… help, having someone reframe that knowledge in the context of Dave’s life.

It’s exhausting in it’s own way, but necessary. Dave doesn’t want to be a _violent_ person. Unfortunately, military training runs deep, and if he doesn’t actively put that shit in the past, he knows it will bubble up into the present, and maybe next time he sees someone in danger, he won’t stop at a couple of punches. God knows he had _wanted_ to do more, when he saw the blood on Klaus’ face. It scared him. Even when he was out in Afghanistan, he was never bloodthirsty, never eager for action like some of his fellow soldiers. He didn't want to become like them, like the ghosts, hungry for blood.

He's been prescribed something, too. Nothing that will stop the ghosts, nothing psychoactive, just a simple beta blocker, which helps steady the shake in his hands and slow the racing of his heart. It's not a miracle cure, but he doesn't startle quite so hard at the sudden shrieks these days. Progress.

Ben still visits. He doesn't mention Klaus anymore, though, doesn't implore Dave to find him or swap the power back. Dave tries not to ask for details, afraid he might hunt Klaus down in a moment of weakness. From the grim lines of Ben's face, though, Dave can guess that things haven't gotten any better. He spends a lot of time reminding himself that he can't fix other people, can only help where help is accepted, so there's nothing to do in this case, where Klaus has so vehemently rejected Dave's help.

Whilst Dave has made an effort to maintain the friendships that he had so recently pushed away, he's still not got an overabundance of close friends, so when the phone rings at 2am, he doesn't really know who could be calling. Stumbling out of bed (he really needs to get a second phone for the bedroom), he almost trips over his own feet in his haste. Sleep is still a precious commodity, so he's more than a little grumpy at being woken up. Maybe he should have let it ring. After all, it's most likely just a wrong number. Unfortunately, he knows that if he had done that, he would spend the rest of the night worrying that he's missed an emergency, that something's gone horribly wrong. At least this way, he doesn't have to stress over it.

"'lo," he mumbles into the phone. A beat passes, but there's no answer. Dave inexplicably feels like he's swallowed something heavy. "Hello?" he repeats, already considering the unlikely possibility of his phone line being haunted. 

“Hey,” slurs a voice, the word dragging out. 

Dave suddenly feels very awake. “Klaus?”

“Yeah,” Klaus says vaguely. “Yeah, are you- can you come get me?”

“Of course! Where are you?” Dave asks, gripping the phone tight. He presses his ear close to the speaker, trying to hear the voice over the background noise of the ghosts. There’s a particularly noisy bastard by the window who keeps yelling wordlessly.

“Um…” A beat. “Ha. I don’t know?”

Shit. “Is there anything around you? Can you describe it?”

“Yeah, uh. I’m at a- a thingy. A payphone! There’s a 7-Eleven, but it’s closed. Uh...” Klaus trails off.

On the little notepad Dave keeps by the phone, he writes: _Payphone. 7-Eleven._ “Anything else?”

“Dunno,” Klaus sighs. “Can’t remember how I got here. I think someone might have _drugged me._ Like- who even does that. I would have just taken it if they gave it to me, no need for the subta- ah. What’s it. Subta... Subti- ugh.”

“Subterfuge?”

“Yes!” Klaus crows, victorious.

Urgently, Dave asks, “Are you alone now? Are you safe?”

“Oh, yeah,” dismissed Klaus. “He’s gone now.”

Worrying at his lip, Dave looks down at his list of clues. It’s not enough to go on. “Klaus, can you see any street signs?”

“Nope. It’s dark,” says Klaus. “‘Don’t like it. And someone took my shoes! They were good shoes...”

Dave pokes dots into the notepad absently, trying to figure out how he can narrow down the search, or whether he should just start checking out every 7-Eleven in the area. “Hey, uh,” he says with sudden inspiration, “could you tell Ben to come see me? He might be with you, and then he can tell me where to go.”

A beat. Then, “ _Dave?”_

“Um. Yes?” he replies, bemused.

“Oh, shit, I thought-” Klaus breaks off, laughing. “I thought this was Diego.”

“Nope,” Dave says, “this is definitely Dave. I can still come pick you up, though?”

Klaus makes an odd sound with his throat. “No, no, no,” he says, “no siree, I do not want that, thank-you-very-much. You can keep those ghosties to yourself.”

“I wouldn’t touch you,” he reassures. “I can just give you a ride.”

“Mm,” Klaus says pensively. “I don’t think that sounds likely.”

As much as Dave doesn’t want to push, he also doesn’t want to leave Klaus alone when he sounds as out of it as he does now, when it sounds like he’s only just escaped a dangerous situation. Particularly when Klaus doesn’t even have shoes. He licks his lips. “Klaus, I-”

The dial tone rings out.

“Crap,” Dave blurts. Klaus had hung up on him.

"Hey."

Dave spins, startled, even though he had been hoping for this. "Jesus, Ben."

Ben rolls his eyes. "I'm here to give you directions."

Putting the phone back on the hanger, Dave hedges, "Are you sure I should go? He said no."

"Because he's worried you will swap the powers back to him," Ben argues. "As long as you don't do that, he'll be fine with it."

"I don't know," says Dave. "He sounded pretty adamant."

"He's high as hell," says Ben, "and half naked in _November_. He has no money and nowhere to go."

Dave scrubs his face with his palms. He waits for another, better option to present itself to him, but the universe doesn't oblige. "Are you sure? What about that Diego guy?"

"I don't think he'll come," Ben says, lips twisting bitterly. 

He sighs. "Alright. Alright, let's go," he says, fumbling with his shoes. Dave can’t help but feel guilty, going against his wishes like this, but what other choice does he have? It’s a lose-lose situation. 

He’s just lucky that he hasn’t been drinking.

Anxiety bubbles in Dave’s chest as he starts up his car, something he hasn’t done since the last time he drove out to Klaus, and the memory of his makes his chest tight. He tells himself that this time will be different, that he won’t try to be the hero, that he’ll just try to be a friend, but somehow, he suspects that it doesn’t make a difference. Klaus will feel betrayed either way.

Ben directs him to a seedier part of town this time, closer, although it takes longer, with Dave cautiously slowing down at each ghost, just in case. He still can’t be certain that they’re dead, although he suspects that he’s gotten a little better with it over time. Maybe he’s just gotten more practiced at searching for blood.

“This is it,” Ben says, disappearing from the passenger seat and reappearing by a phonebooth up ahead. Dave slows the car to a stop, heart hammering in his chest.

Getting out of the car, Dave catches sight of skinny legs sprawled out of the phonebooth, feet bare. His stomach turns. “Is he okay?” he calls out, jogging over.

“He’s fine,” Ben calls out tiredly, “just high.”

Dave breathes out. “Okay, good.” Getting closer to the booth, he slows down, putting his hands up preemptively. “Klaus?”

A quiet groan.

He crouches, seeing Klaus properly now, half awake with his head rolling against the wall of the booth. He isn’t wearing anything except a pair of underwear, and his skin is a mess of goosebumps and stray bruises. His eyes finally catch on Dave, focusing, and his face crumples. "No, no, no," he mumbles to himself, making no effort to move away.

"It's okay," Dave says, freezing in place. "I'm not gonna come any closer, okay? I'm just gonna-" he drops down onto the cold pavement, crossing his legs underneath him. "I'm going to sit right here, okay?"

Klaus eyes him with open suspicion. "How did you find me?"

"Ben," he says simply.

Nose crinkled, Klaus says, “Ugh.”

“Nice to see you, too,” Ben snipes. Dave elects not to pass on the message.

“Do you have anywhere to go? Anyone you want me to call?” Dave asks.

“I’ll figure it out,” says Klaus, slurring slightly. “Maybe I’ll go dancing… find someone…”

Dave grimaces. “I don’t think anyone’s going to let you into a club right now.”

Indignant, he demands, “Why?”

Pointedly, Dave looks him up and down. Klaus follows his gaze, and blinks, as if he hadn’t noticed his state of undress. He laughs.

“Are you cold?” Dave says, which he immediately regrets, because _of course he’s cold._ He’s wearing briefs, in November. “Here, take my jacket.” He shrugs it off, shuffling forward, only to freeze when Klaus flinches back. He swallows. “Sorry. I’ll just…” Dave tosses the jacket onto the ground in front of Klaus, who squints, like it might be a trick, but eventually does scoop up the jacket and wrap it around himself. It’s big on him, but only because he’s skinny. Too skinny. Has he been eating enough without Ben to remind him?

Klaus looks at him like he's a riddle, like he's waiting for an answer. He doesn't speak.

"If you don't want to crash at mine," Dave tries, "maybe I could take you to the shelter?"

Klaus dismisses, "Too late, they'll be full by now."

Dave deflates. "Right. Is there anywhere else I can take you? You can't stay here, you'll freeze."

"I've slept in worse," Klaus says, which does nothing to abate the worry that's settled in Dave's chest.

Desperately, Dave offers, "I could get you a motel room for the night?"

This seems to be the final straw, and Klaus struggles to his feet, jaw tense. "Will you just stop?"

"Stop what?"

"Stop being so nice to me! You should hate me, resent me," Klaus yells, eyes manic, "I left you to the ghosts!"

Frustrated, he says, "Do you _want_ me to be mad at you?"

"Kind of!" Klaus says, "Yeah, kind of! I mean, what kind of- what kind of reverse psychology bullshit is this? I don't care if you're nice, I'm not going to feel guilty ‘bout doing what I have to do to survive."

"No!" denies Dave.

"Or are you just scared I'll die before you can pass the powers back off onto me?" 

Hotly, Dave says, "Is it so hard to believe that I care about what happens to you?"

Klaus grins coldly. "Yeah, it kind of is." He laughs, sways, laughs, tilts to the side like he's about to drop. The ghosts seem louder, all of a sudden.

"Shit," Dave exclaims, taking an automatic step towards him.

"Don't!" Klaus cries, twitching back. "Don't _fucking touch me!"_

Dave stomach drops into his toes, but before he can say anything, there's a hand on his wrist, swinging him back and away from Klaus.

Reflexively, Dave twists his arm and brings down his elbow to break the grip, and it works, but then a knife is at his throat.

"Holy shit," says Ben.

The man in front of him is dark and scarred (and handsome, if you go for the dangerous guys, which Dave typically doesn't), and he holds himself like he knows what he's doing. His eyes burn into Dave. "He _said_ ," he bites out, "not to touch him."

From behind them, Klaus weakly says, "Di, don't."

His nostrils flair. "Seriously, Klaus?"

"He's fine, he's harmless," says Klaus, stumbling forward to put a hand on his shoulder. "Leave him alone."

"You always think they're harmless," the man grumbles, finally removing the knife from Dave's throat. Then, "Get the fuck out of here, dude."

Dave swallows, adrenaline making his knees shake, but he can't just leave Klaus with some guy with a propensity for knives. "Klaus, you sure you're gonna be okay?" He carefully doesn't look in the scarred man's direction. The ghosts that surround him are bloody.

"Yeah, yeah, Diego may look mean, but he's just a big ol' fluffy teddy bear," Klaus sings, clumsily poking the man in the cheek, and Diego swats the hand away but doesn't look too mad about it.

"Okay, well, call me if you need me," Dave says uneasily. "I was serious about that motel room."

"Motel room?" Diego echoes, face twisting up. "Are you really trying to pick up my brother right in front of me?"

"You're- _oh."_ Dave breathes out, tension dropping (although he still keeps a half eye on the knife in Diego's hand). "I didn't realise. Alright, well… take care of him, yeah?"

Diego looks at him with tight suspicion. He doesn't respond. Nodding to himself, Dave takes a step back; he isn't needed here.

"Dave?"

He hesitates, turning back. Klaus is looking at him with a torn expression, biting hard on his bottom lip, eyes bright in the dark. "Yeah?"

Klaus opens his mouth. Shuts it again. He flounders, eyes darting away, rocking on his heels. "I, uh. Do you want your jacket back?"

"Oh." Dave smiles sadly. "No, that's okay. Keep warm, alright? It's getting cold out."

He nods uncertainly. "Okay. Could you- could you tell him hi?"

Dave's eyes flit to Ben, who's been watching impassively, silently. Ben says, "Tell him he's an asshole."

Lips quirking up, Dave tells Klaus, "Don't need to."

Shifting on his feet, Klaus looks down at the ground, pointedly not searching for the brother he won't see. 

"See you around, Klaus," Dave says. Then, to Diego, he lies, "Nice meeting you."

Diego bares his teeth in an approximation of a smile. "Likewise."

In Ben's direction, Dave raises an eyebrow, a wordless question.

"Think I'll stick around here," Ben says. "Watch the shit show."

Smiling, Dave turns away, ignoring the little niggling voice that tells him, _you're so close! Just one touch and you can finally have peace!_

He won't do that to Klaus. He won't.

Driving back home, Dave reflects that this went better than last time. This time, there was only minimal violence, and Klaus is going to be safe. At least, until the next time. The relief is bittersweet.

The apartment is as quiet as it gets these days, with no spirits to greet him (although the shrieking that isn't from his living neighbors is present as ever), and he sighs as he takes his shoes off, grateful for the warmth of the place. The drive home had been cold without his jacket.

On the table by the phone, the notepad is sitting innocuously, with the scrawled words: _Payphone. 7-Eleven._

With a sigh, Dave tears the page free, and balls it up, throwing it over his shoulder in the vague direction of the bin.

Unknowingly to him, it falls perfectly inside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> let me know what you thought! and if you wanna chat season 2, find me on tumblr @siriuspiggyback


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> warning for... uh.. some blood, but i think that's pretty much it, except for the standard hargreeves dumbassery

Dave is half way through his physiotherapy routine when a hard rapping on the door startles him. He's breathing hard and sweating, both from the exercise and the sharp ache in his sternum as he stretches it, the tug of scarring uncomfortable. (The physio keeps him in good shape, but his lung capacity still isn't the same; there’s too much damage to ever truly go back to normal, to ever feel whole and young. He tries not to think about it too much, but sometimes he wonders if that's why the ghosts chose him; He had already been touched by death.)

It's only been a couple of days since the run-in with Klaus and his stabbier brother, and his anxiety has yet to entirely abate from it, although his medication keeps his hands from shaking too hard.

Rolling up onto his feet, Dave takes a step towards the door, only to halt when Ben passes through it. Dave jokes, "I'm guessing that wasn't you knocking?"

"Klaus and Diego," Ben informs him, eyes sparkling with quiet amusement.

Dave raises an eyebrow, but doesn't bother asking. He swings open the door.

True to Ben's word, the pair of them are at the door, Klaus looking pale and wary (coming down?), Diego imposing and stiff. He has a bruise on his chin, and a scrape on his cheekbone. Dave says, “Hi?”

“Is it true?” Diego demands, nostrils flaring. 

Deadpan, Dave says, “Nice to see you, too. Why don’t you come inside?” 

Ben snickers.

Dave turns and walks away before they can answer. Whatever this is about, he isn’t going to have the conversation on the doorstep. Instead, he goes to the kitchen, grabbing himself a water to replace whatever he had just sweated out. “Want anything?”

“Ooh, is that whiskey I can see?” Klaus asks.

“We’re fine, thanks,” says Diego decisively, shoving his brother, who squawks in outrage.

“Alright,” Dave says, although he’s sorely tempted to pour Klaus a whiskey anyway, just to see Diego’s reaction. “Take a seat.”

Klaus plops onto the sofa; Diego does not. “I’d rather stand, thanks.”

Rolling his eyes, Dave says, “Suit yourself,” and sits in the armchair heavily. “So, what’s this all about? I presume it isn’t a social call. Plus, no offence, but you look like shit.”

Diego brushes his fingers over the bruising. "Yeah, and who's fault is that?"

"How would I know?" counters Dave, an eyebrow raised, unimpressed by the hostility.

Arms crossed in a weak attempt at intimidation, Diego says, "Klaus tells me that you've stolen my powers."

Dave has to repress a snort. Despite his very thorough evidence of _powers_ , it's still a trip to hear them discussed like this, as nonchalantly as one might comment on the weather. He knows that what one person might think of as normal can sound bizarre to another, but- _powers_. 

Klaus interjects, "I don't believe I phrased it quite so antagonistically."

"I don't-" Dave cuts off, eyes widening. "Dude, are you bleeding?" 

Diego glances down at the dark red seeping into his shirt. "Ah, shit," he says, tugging up his shirt to check the heavy gauze on his ribs, which is steadily soaking through. "It's fine."

"That doesn't look fine, that looks like a stab wound," Dave says. "Fuck, alright, let's get you to the hospital. That's going to need stitches."

Paling, Diego says, "No way, I've got it under control."

"Says the guy with uncontrolled bleeding," Dave replies.

"God, just leave it, would you? I'm fine, it's hardly the first time."

"I'm not sure that makes it better."

Diego snarls. "I'm not here for bullshit medical advice. I'm here to get my power back!"

Running a hand over his face, Dave asks, "And what power is this?"

"I have the ability to manipulate the trajectory of any object I throw."

From behind the sofa, Ben drawls, "That's a fancy way of saying he has good aim."

He presses his lips together to hide his smile. "Okay, and you think I stole this power?"

Diego grits his teeth. "It's the only explanation why I suddenly… Look, I need those powers, and if you won't give them back willingly, then I'll take them by force."

The ghosts sing at the mention of violence.

"Christ, dude, you don't have to make threats," Dave says, a little perturbed. Diego reminds him of some of the hardest vets that come through, the ones who define themselves through the violence they're capable of. It stops him from puffing up at the challenge, reminds him that guys like Diego need help, not hostility. "Look, if I did steal them, then it wasn't intentional, okay? You're the one that grabbed me last night."

"That's how it works? You can steal powers with a touch?"

Dave shrugs. "Seems like it.”

“And you know because you stole Klaus’ powers,” Diego muses.

_Stole._ Like it’s something he wanted. “Sure,” he says acerbically. “That’s exactly what happened.”

Diego narrows his eyes, but before he can respond, Klaus claps his hands together. “Well, it’s easy to test! Dave, throw something.”

He fumbles a spare quarter from his pocket. “Throw it where?”

“Close your eyes first.”

“Why?” Dave questions, spine straightening.

Klaus grins widely. “To make it harder, obviously.”

Releasing a sigh, Dave closes his eyes. “Now what?”

“Spin in a circle.”

“ _Klaus.”_

“No, seriously, trust me,” Klaus implores him. “That way, the only way you’ll hit your target is if you really do have Di’s power.”

Feeling foolish, Dave stands up, and turns on the spot, hands out wide to keep his balance, the sensation of being watched making his neck prickle. “Okay, where am I aiming?”

“Diego’s nose.”

Diego says, “Klaus-”

He throws the coin.

“ _Ow!”_

At the sound of pain, and Klaus’ cheer, Dave opens his eyes to find Diego clutching his nose. “Holy shit,” Dave says. “It worked?”

“It worked,” Ben confirms wryly.

Rubbing at the red mark on his nose, Diego says, “I want my power back. Now.”

Dave holds his hands up in surrender. “Sure, buddy.” He takes a step forward, hand outstretched in offering.

“Wait!”

He freezes at Ben’s sudden yell. “What?”

Ben swallows, suddenly looking rather stressed. “What if you accidentally give him Klaus’ powers instead?”

“Oh,” says Dave. “That- I didn’t think about that.”

“Who the hell are you talking to?” Diego questions.

Klaus yelps, “No-one-”

And, simultaneously, Dave states, “Ben.”

A beat.

“What do you _mean,_ Ben?” Diego says, voice low.

Dave blinks, thrown. “Um. Ben. Your brother?”

Quietly, (almost too quiet to make out over the distant screams) Ben says, “Oh, boy.”

“Is this some kind of sick joke?” Diego growls. A knife slips down into his hand. Dave takes a hasty step back, lungs spasming in his chest.

“No,” Dave denies, “no, I’m not-”

“Klaus put you up to this, right? All of this is just some twisted prank?” Diego continues, advancing on him.

Then Klaus is there, inserting himself between them, a hand on his brother’s chest. “Woah, woah, let’s all just take a chill pill, yeah?”

Diego swats his hand away. “What the fuck is wrong with you, Klaus? Seriously, what the _fuck_ is wrong in your head that you think this is funny?”

“Hey,” rebukes Dave. “Don’t talk to him like that.”

“Mind your own business,” Diego spits.

“You made it my business when you came into _my home,_ and started verbally assaulting my friend,” Dave says sharply. “So I suggest you step the fuck back, or get out.”

“He’s m-m-” Diego stammers, cutting himself off with a choked noise.

Silence. Despite his posturing, Diego wilts slightly, withdrawing, jaw tight, not quite meeting anyone’s eyes.

Dave pinches the bridge of his nose. For all that the Hargreeves are assholes sometimes, and idiots most of the time, they’re just helpless enough to trigger Dave’s protective instinct. “Look, why don’t we all just sit down and talk about this like adults?”

Klaus purses his lips. “Not really our style, but I suppose we can make an exception. Right, Di?” For all that he sounds light and comfortable, his hands are shaking badly.

“Whatever,” Diego grunts, but he does take a seat.

“Okay,” says Dave, dropping back into the armchair. “So, what part of this is tripping you up?”

Diego folds his arms, slumping down in the seat, suddenly reminiscent of a moody teenager. “Ben.”

“What about him?” Dave asks slowly.

With a wave, Klaus says, “I think I can explain that.” He crosses his legs, smiling pleasantly. “Diego doesn’t believe that Ben is - how shall I say this - still with us.”

Dave frowns, lost. “But- Are you saying you think he’s still alive?”

“What? No,” says Diego. “I know that B-Ben’s dead. What I don't believe is that my junkie brother has seen him.”

“Why not?”

_“Because,_ Klaus can’t see ghosts when he’s high. And Klaus is always high.”

Under his breath, Klaus grumbles, “I wish.”

“Alright,” Dave says, considering it. “I see your logic, but doesn’t it make sense that Ben might be the exception to the rule? He’s family, they have an emotional bond, it’s different.”

“No,” Diego argues. “No, I just- I just know, okay?”

Dave challenges, “How?”

“Look, you weren’t there the day after the funeral,” Diego hisses. “You didn’t see Klaus stumbling his way around, laughing, telling everyone that Ben was still there. He was lying. I _know_ when my own brother is lying.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Dave can see Klaus go still, unmoving, like he’s not even breathing. “Klaus? You okay?”

He comes back to life, then, but his movements are strange, like stop motion, jerky and intentional. “Just reminiscing,” Klaus says, and it’s almost convincing. Almost. 

Dave nods. “Okay. Well…” He turns to Diego, eyes thoughtful. “If you already know, then I guess you don’t care what I say about it, right?”

Diego swallows, hesitation clear as day on his face, knuckles pale as he clutches his knife like a security blanket. “Right.”

“Okay,” says Dave. He knows how powerful denial can be, knows that just telling someone they’re wrong can’t change their mind unless they let it. It’s not something Dave can fix alone. Still, that doesn’t mean he can’t extend his help. “If you ever do want to hear what I have to say on it, you know where I am.”

"Whatever. Can I have my powers back now?" Diego says shortly, hands fidgety.

In the corner, a pale man with a gaping stab wound lets out a wail. Dave tries not to flinch. "Sure, we can try. Can't guarantee you won't end up with the ghosts, too, though." Secretly, Dave half hopes he does. It's a selfish thought, but he misses the quiet, and it would be pretty nice for Ben to say hi anyway.

"How will I know if I get both powers?" Diego asks.

"The screaming will tip you off," Dave says mildly. "Ready to do this?"

Diego frowns, but reaches out a hand, and Dave clasps it with his own, trying to keep in mind the powers he wants to send, trying to ignore the cries and shrieks, and a shudder runs through them both.

When Dave steps back, he doesn't feel like anything has changed. He can still hear the stabbed guy mutter darkly to himself, can still see Ben lurking silently. Diego reaches for a knife, and throws with a languid ease, watching it bend in mid air to plant itself down into the coffee table.

"Oh, thanks," Dave deadpans.

With a vicious smirk, Diego stands, yanking his knife back out. "You're welcome," he says, holstering the blade. "Alright, I'm out. Klaus, you gonna get your powers too?"

Klaus jumps up as if electrified. "Oh, uh, no, that doesn't seem necessary."

“You’re leaving them with this guy?”

“Yeah!” Klaus says laughingly. “Yeah, I guess I am.”

To Dave, he asks, “What about you? You’re okay with that?”

Dave shrugs stiffly. “I’m not going to force Klaus to take them back, if that’s what you mean.”

Diego shakes his head, and says, “But you’ve got no training. Can you even control them?”

“I don’t think these are the kind of powers you control,” Dave drawls.

He looks somewhere between perplexed and disturbed at that. “Alright, well- Whatever. I’m out.” He starts towards the door.

“Hey, wait for me!” says Klaus, darting after him, putting some space between him and Dave.

Just before they leave, Dave calls out, “Diego?”

He pauses. “Yeah?”

“I meant it, earlier. If you want to hear about Ben, you can come talk to me, any time. And, y'know, try not to bleed out in the meantime.”

“Fine,” Diego grunts, avoiding his eyes, and then the two of them are rushing out of the door.

Then, it's quiet. Or, as close to quiet that Dave ever experienced these days, considering that the stabbing victim had followed Diego out. Dave sighs, sinking into his armchair. "Alright," he says. "Let's hear it."

"Hear what?" says Ben.

"Well, I'm assuming you have an opinion on all of that," Dave says tiredly.

Ben shuffles his feet. "Well, maybe I don't," he mutters.

Doubtfully, Dave hums. He considers just going back to bed; it's been a long day, and he's not even getting paid for all this pseudo therapy. 

"I just," Ben starts haltingly. "I just wish you would have told him I'm here. I know he would never believe Klaus, but maybe he would have believed you, maybe I could have actually talked to him!"

"Ben," says Dave, "I think we both know he wouldn't have accepted anything I have to say. If someone's made their mind up, logic or reasoning won't change it. Diego believes what he wants to believe."

"You don't know that," argues Ben. "He's my brother, why wouldn't he want me to be here?" There's something vulnerable in his face when he says this, like he's afraid of the answer.

Dave scrubs at his eyes, scattered. "It's not about that. He just doesn't want to believe that you're stuck. When people lose someone close to them, they want to think that their spirit has, y'know, found peace."

"Well, that's just dumb," Ben says.

"People are dumb about the people they love."

Ben finally softens at that. "Yeah," he agrees begrudgingly. "I guess so."

"For what it's worth," Dave says, "I hope he comes around soon.”

“Yeah,” says Ben. “Yeah, I hope so, too.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings for medical issues* and.... a breach of privacy laws in order to progress the plot
> 
> *more in depth warnings in the end notes
> 
> also, happy birthday to dan!! have a good one bro!<3

Things settle into a rocky, queasy sort of routine for a while. The ghosts don’t get quieter, but Dave gets used to the noise, day by day, although sometimes he still feels like he’s drowning under the crashing of sound. 

Klaus doesn't call. Diego doesn't visit.

Ben spends more and more time at Dave's place, like he's gradually giving up on Klaus, accepting that Dave is the only living person who will interact with him. It wears on him. Dave tries to cheer him up, but he can see him losing hope that Klaus will ever take his powers back, and in all honesty, Dave's losing hope too.

He gets a call on Wednesday morning, just as the sun creeps out over the horizon.

_Hello. We have a Klaus Hargreeves in the hospital with us, and he has no emergency contact, but this number was in his pocket, and- it isn’t really, um, protocol, but no one’s come looking for him, and- it’s been a few days._

She hadn’t been willing to divulge any details over the phone, but… a few days, she had said. It didn’t sound good.

Naturally, Ben took this as his cue to freak out.

“What did she say exactly, though?” he demands as Dave pulls on a jacket, searching for his car keys.

“I already told you,” Dave says, “she wouldn’t give me details.”

Ben folds his arms. “But did she imply anything? What was her tone like, what did she _sound_ like?”

Hurrying out the door, he replies, “I don’t know, Ben. She sounded like Klaus is in the hospital!”

“Fine. I’m going to go look for him,” decides Ben. 

“Meet you there!” calls Dave, but he’s already gone. Dave sighs, and pretends that he’s not also panicking as he jogs to his car, dry swallowing a beta-blocker and hoping it does something to ease the way his breath shakes on the exhale.

Why is it that, whenever he’s driving out to see Klaus, it’s always in the midst of some kind of crisis? Is it too much to ask that they meet in some non-cataclysmic situation?

When he gets to the reception desk, he asks, "I'm here for Klaus Hargreeves?"

The blonde behind the desk doesn't look up from her paperwork. "Name?

"Dave Katz."

"Are you next of kin?"

"Um. Yeah?"

A beat. Finally looking up at him, she raises a skeptical eyebrow. "Family?"

Dave freezes. "I'm his partner." Even as it leaves his mouth, he finds himself wincing; he's never been a particularly good liar.

"Is that so," the blonde drawls.

He waits to be told off, but before she can get up steam, a heavy set nurse peers into the reception area. "Did I hear you say you're Dave?"

"Uh, yeah, that's me," Dave says, shoving his hands in his pockets.

"This one's with me," she tells the blonde, signalling for Dave to follow, and he does so gratefully. "You're here for Hargreeves, right?"

"Yes, ma'am," Dave confirms. He can just about hear her over the many cries of the ghosts; it seems that hospitals are not quiet places for him.

She eyes him for a moment. "Now, you really should not have been called - trust me, my colleague will be having a _talk_ about that breach of privacy regulations - but as you’re here, and since you're his _partner_ and all, I think we can let you see him."

He smiles sheepishly. "Thank you. Really. Is he okay? No one's told me anything."

The nurse lets out a sigh. "He's in bad shape, I won't lie. A pretty serious case of serotonin syndrome. It was touch and go for a while, but he pulled through - physically, at least."

"Physically?"

"He's yet to wake up," the nurse says bluntly.

Dave sucks in a breath. "How long since he…?"

"Four days.”

“Is he- when’s he going to wake up?” he asks, struggling to keep up with her brisk pace as she leads him down the halls, which are packed tightly with spirits, and he shivers as they brush into him, through him.

"We're hopeful that it will be soon, but there are no guarantees in these situations. He had a severe seizure, and he was fairly hyperthermic," the nurse impresses upon him. They come to a stop outside one of the doors. “We’re going to suggest rehab as soon as he’s ready to be discharged.”

Dave smiles regretfully. “Not sure he’ll be happy about that.”

The nurse sighs, and the sound is heavy and tired. “No, Klaus never is,” she says, and it occurs to him then that she might have met Klaus before, in similar, horrible situations. “Well, go ahead and sit with him. Talk to him, hold his hand, let him know you’re here. It can help.”

He knows better than to hold his hand, but the rest, sure. “Okay, thank you.”

“And don’t go making any trouble,” she concludes with a severe look. “I’ll kick you out in a second if it turns out Klaus wouldn’t want you here.”

“Understood,” says Dave, hoping he looks harmless enough, trying not to flinch as a ghost walks into him.

She nods. “Go on, then. Someone will be making the rounds soon.”

“Thanks again,” he says, and then he’s turning into the room.

There’s a difference between knowing that Klaus was in the hospital, and _seeing_ Klaus in the hospital. He looks… small, dwarfed by the monitors surrounding him, the wires trailing around the bed. He’s got a cannula in his nose, and Dave takes it as a good sign; if nothing else, he’s breathing by himself.

“Took your time.”

Dave drops into the chair by the bed. “Hi, Ben.”

Impatiently, he asks, “Did anyone tell you anything? What happened?”

“Too many drugs,” explains Dave. He can’t quite bring himself to look away from Klaus. “He had a seizure. Hasn’t woken up since.”

Ben slumps against the windowsill. “Shit.”

“Yeah,” he sighs. 

“He looks so… sick. Normally he just bounces right back, y’know? I’ve never seen him like this.”

“Really?” says Dave, eyebrows creeping upward.

Frowning, Ben questions, “What do you mean?”

“Oh, no, nothing,” Dave says. “I just… Maybe I got the wrong impression, but it sounded like Klaus has been using and mixing drugs for a long time.”

“Since we were thirteen, at least,” Ben confirms, as if the idea of a thirteen year old polydrug addict is par for the course.

Dave bites his lip, thinking. It’s not impossible that Klaus is just lucky, that he’s never mixed the wrong things or gotten a bad batch, but in this family, is anything ever just luck? “Did you ever think that maybe it was part of his, y’know, abilities?”

Ben blinks. “What?”

“Well, it just seems unlikely that someone like Klaus wouldn’t end up in this situation a lot. I’m not an expert or anything, but do you think that maybe his powers- I don’t know, I’m probably wrong, it was just a thought,” Dave finishes with a shrug.

“But- But if you’re right, if it was his abilities that allowed him to jump back up every time, then what now?” 

Fuck. “I don’t know. Look, Ben, I’m probably wrong anyway, I don’t know anything about powers-”

“No, no, I think you might be right,” Ben interrupts. “I mean, I’ve seen Klaus _literally have his heart shocked back into rhythm_ and then jump out the ambulance and make a run for it at the next red light.”

“Damn. Okay,” says Dave, wide eyed.

"Dave. You need to give him his powers back."

Dave's shoulders stiffen. "We've talked about this, you know I'm not willing to-"

"Yes, I know, but if you don't then he's _going to die!_ He won't stop, and eventually he's not gonna pull through, he's going to die, and I won't be able to do anything about it!" Ben hisses, a finger stabbing towards Dave. "You need to fix this. Now."

" _No,"_ Dave says, trying to keep his voice low, despite the way he feels like screaming. "Ben, I told you, I told _him,_ that I'm not going to go near him if he doesn't want me to, and I'm not going to make that a lie."

Ben shakes his head. "I hope you still feel good on that moral high ground when Klaus is in the morgue."

He flinches. "Fuck you, Ben. You think I don't worry about that? About him?"

"If you cared about him, you wouldn't be risking his life," Ben says tightly. "You barely know him. He's my brother. Don't you think that, maybe, I know what's best for him?"

"The person who who _knows best,"_ Dave grits out, "is Klaus, because it's his body, it's his life-"

"So you're just going to let him throw it all away?"

"I'm not _letting him_ do anything, it's his choice!"

Ben's eyes burn with fury, and he looks like he's sorely tempted to throw a punch, if not for the fact that it would just pass through him. "So you're just going to do nothing? Didn't you learn anything from getting that war buddy killed?"

Oh.

Too slow, Ben clasps a hand over his mouth, as if to stop any hurtful barbs from spilling out. But it's too late.

Dave whispers, "Get out."

Weakly, Ben says, "Okay, that was a low blow-"

He leaps to his feet, hands clenched tight into fists, and something bursts from his chest, like a wave of energy, and Ben is blustered back by it a few steps. “ _Get out.”_

Wide eyed, Ben stares at him for a long moment. And then he steps back, and phases out of the room.

Alone, Dave drops heavily back into the rickety hospital chair, and puts his head in his hands. That was- that could have gone better. He rubs at his eyes, which are stinging with the threat of tears, and tries to pull himself together, despite the way he feels like he’s been cracked open. He looks up at Klaus. Despite the argument, he hasn’t so much as twitched, like he didn’t notice a thing. Dave aches to reach out and touch him. He wants to squeeze his hand, to smooth down those wild curls, to reassure Klaus that he’s got someone waiting for him out here, that someone needs him to wake up. In the end, all he does is croak out, “Klaus… I’m here, okay? You’re not alone anymore. I’ll wait for you, but you gotta wake up, okay?”

Naturally, there’s no response.

* * *

Ben doesn't come back that day.

It's not long until Dave starts getting antsy, wondering when he'll return. Ben should be here; it's his brother in the hospital bed, after all. If Klaus can't have someone who can hold his hand, he should at least have his family here, right?

Unless…

Unless he can have both?

Diego should be here. He cares about Klaus, was willing to pick him up in the early hours of the morning, was protective of him when he saw Dave. But then, why is he not on the emergency contact list? Did Klaus take him off it? It's not unusual for addicts to be ashamed of their issues, their overdoses, and as much as Klaus thrives under attention, he equally avoids being vulnerable. He jokes and dismisses his problems; it's not unreasonable that he wouldn't want anyone to witness his suffering.

So, should he contact him? If Klaus had been awake and raring to escape, Dave would have let him keep this private, but Klaus is in a coma. The doctors can't guarantee that he's going to wake up. Diego deserves to know. If Klaus dies like this, and Diego doesn't get a chance to say goodbye, all because of Dave-

Best not to think about that.

The problem is, Dave has no idea how to find him. He seriously doubts that the guy is in the phonebook; Diego has that paranoid, off the grid vibe.

So, he needs Ben.

Groggily, Dave rubs the heels of his palms into his eyes. It's getting late (a nurse had recently been in to check on Klaus, and had told him he should go home, but Dave's taking it as a suggestion rather than an order) and he would normally be in bed by now. There's no chance he's getting a nap here; the ghosts are an omnipresent scream in his ears, more than he's ever experienced, even at the VA. He knows that good sleep patterns are important, but he justifies that this has to be a priority. Klaus needs to have people around him, to know that he's not alone. Dave isn't going anywhere until Klaus has his family here to watch over him.

He checks the clock: midnight. The perfect time for a seance.

Dave has yet to actively try to use these powers, other than his constant, desperate wishes to banish the ghosts. He's not even sure whether there's any aspect of these powers that he can control. Klaus hadn't mentioned it, and neither had Ben. Still, it's worth a shot. If it didn't work, at least there's no one around to witness his failure. Well, no one except for the guy with the road rash and missing leg who's muttering to himself in the corner, mostly oblivious to Dave.

He pulls his legs up onto the seat, sitting cross legged, with his palms on his knees. How do seances even go? Does he need candles, an ouija board? Or is that just a thing in the movies?

Rolling his shoulders, Dave lets out a long breath, trying to let go of his tension. He figures that he needs to focus, needs to wave away distractions, like meditation, so he works on centering himself. After a few minutes of that, the cries of the dead begin to fade. Dave falls into himself.

Slowly, so slowly, Dave becomes aware of what he holds. Deep inside, half buried, he finds it: a splinter of blue, so cold that it burns. The thing he's been carrying since Klaus touched him. 

He moves towards it.

It hums, power radiating off of it in waves, and as he gets closer, Dave realises that it’s not a splinter, it’s a heart, a hub, an intersection. It’s the spider at the centre of the web. Long trails of blue branch out, infinite and yet clearly defined to him. There is one that stands out, stronger than the rest, a vital blood vessel. Dave tugs on it, feels the pull inside of himself.

_“What the hell?”_

Dave opens his eyes. The hospital room is blinding white, and he squints against it, feeling like he’s been in the dark for a long time. In the middle of the room is a dark figure. “Ben?”

“Did you just-” Ben cuts himself off, shaking his head. “What did you do?”

“I was trying to find you,” Dave explains.

Ben rubs a palm over his chest, as if he had felt the same tug that Dave had. “Well, you sure found me. I think you... _summoned_ me.”

Apologetically, Dave says, “I didn’t really expect it to work. Are you okay? It didn’t hurt, did it?”

“No, no, it was just weird. I didn’t even know that was possible,” says Ben, a thoughtful look in his eye.

“Klaus never did that?”

“No, but then,” Ben says with a shrug, “I don’t think Klaus ever wanted me around all that much.”

Dave winces. “Ben, I don’t think that’s true.”

With a wry smile, Ben adds, “I guess I never left long enough to find out.” He looks vaguely self depreciating at this, like he’s embarrassed by his own loyalty. “Anyway, what’s up? Why the summoning?”

“Well, first of all, I wanted to say sorry about earlier.”

He blinks, like this is a shocking revelation, and Dave gets the distinct feeling that apologies were not common or even encouraged in the Hargreeves household. “I- You don’t have to do that.”

“No, I really do. What you said wasn’t great, but I could have handled it better,” Dave insists.

“I was being an asshole, though,” says Ben.

Dave shrugs. “Well, yeah, that’s true.”

Ben’s expression turns remorseful. He looks away. “I wasn’t trying to be an asshole. I was just… worried.”

“I know,” he says easily, Dave says. “He’s your brother.”

He wraps his arms around himself, like he’s holding himself together. “Yeah.”

“I was thinking,” says Dave, “that Klaus deserves to have his family here. Do you think we should call Diego?”

“Oh. I mean, you can try, but I don’t think he’ll come,” says Ben.

“What do you mean?”

“Diego took himself off the emergency contact list almost a year ago now. Said he couldn’t watch Klaus destroy himself anymore,” Ben explains.

Dave sucks on his teeth. It’s harsh, but Dave can’t imagine how difficult it must be, seeing your own sibling almost kill themself over and over. “Okay, but this time’s different. It’s not just an OD; Klaus is in a coma.”

“You can tell him that, but I doubt he’ll care.”

“No,” disagrees Dave, thinking of the fierce protectiveness in Diego’s eyes when they had first met. “I think he cares a lot. More than he would like to, at least.”

Ben looks at him, unreadable. “You have a lot of faith in my family.”

His smile is lopsided, but genuine, and he says, “Someone’s got to give you assholes a chance.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> detailed warnings: hospitals, overdose, coma, mentions of self destructive behaviours/seizures/death
> 
> let me know your thoughts!<3


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> anyone else remember the pride flag in al's gym? because i sure do!
> 
> warnings in end note

**__** _Ring._

_Ring._

_Ring._

Dave shifted his weight, anxiety thrumming through his gut. He can feel eyes on the back of his neck: Ben, and the other ghosts. The phone rings.

" _Al's Place."_

Dave blinks; the voice sounds too old and croaky to be him. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Ben shoot him a dorky thumbs up. "Uh, hi. I'm looking for Diego?"

" _What do you want with the kid?"_ the voice responds, vaguely suspicious.

"I've got something important to tell him," Dave explains. "Is he there?"

The man makes a non committal noise. Then, he says something else, but it's not into the phone, and with the dead moaning in his ear, there's no chance of Dave making it out. Faintly, he can hear the sound of the phone passing hands.

" _Hello?"_ says a familiar, guarded voice.

"Hey, it's Dave."

A beat. "Dave who?"

He can't help but roll his eyes at that. "Dave Katz. You left a knife shaped hole in my coffee table. Ringing any bells?"

Diego says, "Oh. The thief. What do you want?"

"It's about Klaus."

"What's he done now?" Diego asks.

Dave winces. "No, he's- he's in the hospital."

For a long moment, Diego is silent. Then, he mutters… something. 

"I'm sorry, but it's really loud here," says Dave, sparing a glare for a particularly verbose ghost yelling in his ear. "Can you say that again?"

"It doesn't sound loud," Diego says belligerently.

"Yeah, well, I'm at the hospital, and I'll give you three guesses why it might be loud for me specifically," replies Dave, voice mild.

To Diego’s credit, he doesn’t argue the point. Instead, he changes tactics, and says, “Look, I told Klaus already, I’m not picking him up from the hospital anymore. I’m not his goddamn personal taxi service-”

“Diego, I’m not asking you to pick him up,” Dave interrupts.

“Then w-why are you calling me?” questions Diego, stuttering slightly.

Dave shoots a desperate look at Ben, but he just shrugs helplessly. “I just thought you should know,” he says eventually, “that Klaus is… he’s not doing too great.” 

“What does that mean?” Diego demands.

He swallows. “He’s in a coma.”

Dave can, just barely, make out a sharp intake of breath. Then, “I’ll be there in five.”

The dial tone rings out before Dave can reply.

With an incongruous amount of optimism, Ben says, “I think that went well.”

Raising one eyebrow, Dave says, "I think you and I have different understanding of the word _well."_

Ben counters, "He's coming, isn't he?"

"Apparently," says Dave. He hangs up the payphone, looking at the change left in his wallet; there must be a vending machine around here somewhere. He hasn't eaten for… too long. But first, "Is there anyone else I should call?"

"Not really," says Ben. "Luther's still at the academy, and Allison has her secretary screen her calls. Vanya would pick up, but… I don't know if that's a good idea. She's got pretty bad anxiety, I don't know how well she'd cope with this."

Dave frowns at that. "Having anxiety doesn't mean she's weak, man.”

He’s swift to say, “No, I know, it isn’t like that. Vanya’s just… She’s like the baby of the family, y’know? Klaus wouldn’t want her to see him like this.”

At that, Dave falters. As much as Klaus’ family deserves to know, he doesn’t want to go against his wishes, and Ben seems pretty certain about this one. He takes a minute to breathe deep. How is it that Dave is the one to make these decisions? Just because of some weird coincidence, some random chance, some powers that he never asked for? How well does he even know Klaus? “Alright,” he acquiesces. “In that case, I’m going to see how much junk I can afford with the rest of my change.”

They find an automatic coffee machine, and he presses the button for a plain black, not trusting it to make anything more complicated. The aroma of burned beans isn't encouraging. Still, the cup is hot in his hand, so he'll take that as a win. He feels vaguely nauseous from the smell of antiseptic and the omnipresent glare of the fluorescent lighting, and none of the food on offer from the vending machine looks particularly appetising, but Dave knows that the queasiness will only get worse if he doesn’t eat, so after a minute of deliberation, he keys in the code for a Kit-Kat.The machine groans as the coil turns, pushing the candy bar forward at a glacial pace. It teeters on the edge of falling.

It doesn't fall.

"Oh, for fucks sake," mutters Dave, pinching the bridge of his nose. For some absurd reason, he is suddenly sure that he's going to cry.

A gruff voice from behind him says, "I can help you with that."

Dave startles. He hates being snuck up on, although considering the unwavering screams of the dead, it's not hard to do so. "Diego," he greets. "How exactly? No offence, but I really can't afford to pay damages."

Diego rolls his eyes. "I'm not going to break it, asshole. I can be subtle."

Eyeing the leather knife holster, Dave says, "Sure. Go ahead."

With a quick glance to check that they're alone (discounting the ghosts, of course), Diego pulls a quarter from his pocket. For a second, Dave thinks he's going to pay for the candy bar, which would be kind of sweet, but nothing that Dave couldn't do himself. But no, Diego doesn't slot the coin in. Instead, he crouches down, and lifts the flap up. With a deft flick of the wrist, he tosses the coin up, and it flies with perfect accuracy into the Kit-Kat, dislodging it. They both fall into the tray with a _thump._ Diego collects them both, and tosses the candy towards Dave.

“Huh,” says Dave. “Thanks.”

Looking vaguely uncomfortable at the gratitude, Diego says, “Whatever. Where’s Klaus?”

“This way,” Dave says, sobering. He leads them back through the identical looking corridors, Ben following like a shadow. A few times, he has to sidestep to avoid a ghost, and he catches the bemused glances, but he doesn't try to explain himself.

At the doorway, Diego falters.

Dave sees the way he freezes up, eyes wide, like he hadn't really expected to find Klaus like this, small and frail in his hospital bed. He remembers what Ben had said earlier about how Klaus usually bounced right back. He steps back, and gestures for Diego to take the seat by the bedside, and he collapses into it like his strings have been cut. 

"When's he going to w-wake up?"

"Um, they're not really sure, I guess," says Dave, running a hand through his hair. "Hopefully soon, but they can't… guarantee anything."

Diego nods shakily. "What do I do? Like, do I need to talk to him, or..?"

"Hold his hand," Dave blurts. "The nurse said I should- but I can't, obviously."

"Right," says Diego. With a self-conscious air, he pulls his sibling's hand into his own, squeezing it slightly. "Uh. Hey, Klaus. It's me. Diego." He turns to shoot a look at Dave, as if daring him to poke fun. When Dave does nothing except hold up his hands in surrender, he turns back to Klaus. "Dave's here too, so, uh. Wake up soon, yeah? Don't keep us waiting."

They fall silent then. Dave itches to speak, to say something to make this better, be he's coming up empty. Ben watches from the corner, arms crossed.

Diego clears his throat. "How did you find me, anyway?"

"Ben told me," Dave says simply.

He twitches at that, as if he's holding himself back from throwing a punch. "Right," he says, voice toneless.

Dave shares an exasperated look with Ben, who presses his lips together and shrugs. "So, uh," Dave says, "I didn't realise you work at Al's"

"What's it to you?" Diego asks. There's something defensive in the line of his shoulders. 

"Nothing," says Dave. "Just that I know someone who goes there."

"Oh yeah?" challenges Diego.

"Yeah, my friend's partner keeps recommending the place. Rory."

Diego, for a second, goes surprised and open. "Oh shit, you know Rory?"

“Yeah, man. They love the place,” Dave says, peeling open his candy, only to find that the chocolate has melted slightly from the warmth of his hand. “Apparently last year some dude was harassing them, and he got banned for life, so now they recommend the place to everyone.”

“Yeah, I remember that. I was the one who tossed the guy out,” says Diego. “Huh.”

“Small world,” says Dave.

Tilting his head, Diego questions, “How come you haven’t come around, then?” He looks Dave up and down, but this time it feels less assessing, and more playful. “I bet you go to some fancy, upscale gym, huh? Don’t wanna slum it down at Al’s?” 

Despite his usual sour demeanor, it seems that Diego can actually be charming when he wants to be, and it’s suddenly much easier to see how him and Klaus are related. Dave laughs. “Nah, man, I just don’t go to any gyms these days.”

“Really?” Diego says.

Unable to resist teasing him, Dave says, “Why? You been checking out these guns?” He flexes.

In the corner of the room, Ben chortles.

“Shut up,” retorts Diego, ears going red. “Pasty white dudes aren’t my type.”

“Ouch,” Dave deadpans.

“All I meant is that you don’t look like a twig like Klaus does,” Diego says.

The levity in the room plummets at that. Dave looks at Klaus, unmoving in the hospital bed, limbs spindly and cheeks gaunt. Between their first meeting and now, Klaus has dropped too much weight, and gone from slender to borderline skeletal. Dave clears his throat. “Yeah, I uh- I do work out, just at home. My lungs kinda suck these days, and it gets embarrassing when you start wheezing during warm ups.”

Diego says, “Nah, we see loads of asthmatics, dude, no one’s gonna judge.”

He shakes his head. “It’s not asthma. It’s, uh, scar tissue and stuff.”

Raising his eyebrows, Diego asks, “What, did you get shanked?”

“Nah, I got shot,” Dave says with a self deprecating smile. Subconsciously, he rubs at the scar through his shirt, his chest alight with a psychosomatic ache at the memory.

He whistles. “Shit, man. Army?”

“Yeah,” says Dave. “Signed up fresh outta high school, trying to make a man out of myself, all the standard bullshit. Got hit ten months into my tour.” His lips twist ruefully.

“Sucks,” says Diego.

"Yep," Dave agrees lightly, taking a sip of his rapidly cooling coffee. No matter how many times he's talked about it, Dave still gets panicky when he's discussing it, and he feels the way his chest has gone tight with anxiety. He lets out a slow breath. "Listen, Diego," he says hesitantly, "I need to talk to you about something."

Diego immediately turns stony. "If this is about Ben again-"

"No, no," Dave hurries to say, "I told you, you can ask me about that when you're ready."

Cautiously, Diego says, "Then what's this about?"

"It's about Klaus. About his powers."

Ben steps closer, listening intently. "Tell him," he murmurs.

"What, you want to give them back?"

"No," says Dave, "I mean, yes, but that's a whole other story."

Undeterred, Diego asks, "What does that mean?"

"It _means,"_ Dave says hotly, "that ghosts are awful and loud and vile - no offense, Ben - and that I haven't had a full night's sleep since I got these goddamn powers."

For a moment, there's a fragile silence, punctuated only by the steady beeping of the heart monitor. Then, Ben says, "None taken."

Dave deflates. "Sorry. That's not really relevant."

"Well," says Diego, "why don't you just give them back?"

"What?" 

Diego shrugs. He looks vaguely uncomfortable, which seems to be his default when it comes to serious conversations. "I mean, you've got no training, of course you can't control them. So give them back to Klaus."

"I can't," Dave responds.

"Why not?"

"Because he's _scared of them_ ," he blurts out. "And, fuck, I'm scared of them too! But if he's been dealing with them for twenty something years, doesn't he deserve a break?"

Diego squints. "Scared of them? Why?"

Feeling suddenly quite exhausted, Dave rubs at his bleary eyes. He hasn't realised quite how deep this misunderstanding runs. Hadn't Diego grown up with Klaus? How is it that he doesn't have the first clue about something as fundamental as the ghosts? "Okay, look," he tries, "the ghosts are awful, and I don’t think they can be controlled like you’re thinking anyway, but that’s not what I wanted to talk about.”

“Then what did you want to talk about?”

Dave falters. “I have this… theory, I guess. I might be wrong, but, uh, Ben seems to agree with me.”

Stiffening at the mention of his brother, Diego says, “Just tell me.”

Quietly, Ben says, “Dave...”

“It’s about these powers. Apparently, Klaus has overdosed plenty of times before, right?”

“Yeah,” Diego says, “what about it?”

“ _Dave,”_ Ben says, more forcibly this time.

He turns to the ghost. “Yeah?”

“Look,” says Ben.

He looks.

Blue eyes meet green.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings: this one's fairly light, but there's discussion of coma/overdose/weight loss, very vague allusions to harassment of a queer person, and a comment that is well meaning but borderline ableism. 
> 
> also, a cliff hanger, because I couldn't resist.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this one's a little lighter on warnings, but there are continued discussions around mortality/overdoses/self destructive behaviour - y'know, the standard klaus warnings

It’s not like in the movies.

Dave has enough medical knowledge to expect it, and yet he still finds himself disappointed by it. Klaus doesn’t snap awake and start speaking. Instead, his eyes open, but they’re glassy and distant, rolling without focusing. His brow furrows. His mouth opens and closes without producing any words.

“Oh, shit,” says Diego.

Silently, Dave shoots him a reprimanding look. Klaus looks agitated enough, and cursing him out isn’t going to help that. Instead, Dave slowly steps forward to press the button for the nurse, and then crouches down by the side of the bed. “Hey, Klaus,” he says, voice level and soothing. “I know you must be confused, but everything’s okay. You’re safe.”

Klaus’ gaze finally latches onto Dave, although there’s no recognition yet, just a thick, drowsy sort of panic. 

“I’m right here,” Dave says, “and so is Diego.”

“Hey, bro,” Diego says roughly, squeezing Klaus’ hand.

Dave smiles encouragingly, and Klaus blinks and squints. “Ben’s here too. You’re safe.”

It’s then that the door opens, and a nurse bustles inside. Seeing Klaus awake, she pages for the doctor, and starts checking the monitors, jotting something down in his chart. “Hi, Klaus,” she says cheerfully. “My name’s Sandy. I’m here to take care of you, okay?” She doesn’t get a response, but it seems like she wasn’t expecting one. Instead, she turns to Dave and Diego. “I’m afraid I’ve got to ask you guys to wait outside for a little while.”

Immediately, Diego starts, "No way-"

"We'll be right outside," Dave says firmly, dragging Diego out of the room by his knife harnass, careful not to touch skin. Ben shoots him a little salute as they leave. 

Diego shrugs him off in the corridor. "What the hell, man?"

"Klaus won't be cognisant for a while yet," Dave explains, "and they need to run tests in the meantime."

"What if he wants me there?" Diego argues.

"Diego, he's just woken up from a _coma._ He won't be able to recognise you yet."

Unfortunately, this seems to be not as comforting as he had intended. (Usually, Dave's a little more tactful, but he's tired and stressed and he hasn't eaten properly and-) “What do you mean, he won’t recognise me? You don’t think he’s, like, brain damaged, do you?”

"No, I didn't say that," Dave hurries to explain. "It's just how this works. People don't snap awake after a coma, it's a gradual thing, y'know? It'll take some time."

He takes this in, swiping a palm over his mouth. "Alright. Alright, fine, I guess we can-"

"Mr Katz," says a stern voice, "please tell me you haven't been here this whole time?"

Dave whirls. Behind him is the same nurse who allowed him to visit - _Nurse Evelyn,_ her name tag proclaims - her eyebrows raised sharply, as if she's already disappointed by his excuse before he's even spoken. Cringing, Dave says, "I haven't been here the whole time?"

She shakes her head, exasperated. "You're a terrible liar." Her gaze flicks over to Diego, and recognition crosses her face; clearly, the nurse knows who Klaus' ex emergency contact is, and she's not impressed by him. Turning back to Dave, she adds, "Go home, Katz. Get some sleep. You look like you need it."

"Not yet," says Dave. "Klaus just woke up."

For a moment, Evelyn smiles in relief, but she doesn't relent for long. "At least go down to the cafeteria and eat a proper breakfast, then. Klaus will be in testing for a while yet, I'm sure."

"Okay, fine," Dave acquiesces, nodding for Diego to follow.

As soon as the nurse is out of earshot, Diego hisses, "We can't go anywhere! What if something happens? What if Klaus asks for us?"

Dave stops, taking a moment to gauge the lines of worry on Diego's face. "Ben's staying with him. He'll let me know if Klaus needs us, okay?"

His face screws up, and Dave wonders whether he's pushed him too far with the Ben thing, but Diego just sighs, "Whatever, ghost boy. Let's go get breakfast."

There's no sign or map in sight, but luckily - or, not so luckily, if you think about it - Diego seems to know the way. Dave follows behind, trying to keep sight on the back of his leather jacket, but it gets increasingly difficult. If the coma ward had been busy with spirits, the main corridors are absolutely heaving with them. The crush of bodies is so dense that Dave feels like he's suffocating. He distantly worries that his eardrums might burst; the cries and sobs are constant, and just to keep things interesting, they are interspersed with blood curdling screams.

Before too long, Dave loses sight of Diego.

The panic that he's been holding at bay hits him hard, his lungs seizing in his chest, and each way he turns there are more ghosts, pale and stretched and shrieking, and he's not even sure which direction he's meant to be moving in, can't even see the hallway around the dead, dead, dead-

A hand clasps his wrist.

Dave doesn't shout, but only because it catches in his throat.

"What are you doing?" says Diego, standing in front of him like a knight on shining leather.

Gormless, Dave blinks at him. At Diego's raised eyebrow, he manages to choke out, "Ghosts. They're- everywhere. I can't- I can't _see."_

Diego's face flickers with something like concern. For a moment, Dave's vaguely impressed - for a Hargreeves, he's displaying an unusual amount of emotional intelligence - but then he goes and says, "Can't you, y'know, banish them?"

Very slowly, Dave says, "Don't you think that if I could do that, I would have done it by now?"

Expression turning sour, Diego mutters (Dave has to lip read most of it), "Well apparently I don't know shit about my brother's powers, so how would I know?"

"Is this really the time for this?" Dave grits out. A particularly tenacious ghost claws it's gnarled fingers through Dave's spinal column, and the not-sensation makes him shiver.

"Oh, for fucks sake," says Diego. "Just follow me, okay?" He turns back down the corridor, and starts pulling him along.

It's disconcerting, not being able to see where he's going, trusting Diego to lead, and his legs threaten to lock up every time he loses sight of Diego in front of them, but they do manage to make their way through the main corridor, and it starts to thin out. Dave can finally breathe a little deeper, even if it’s still hard to see where they’re going. Diego’ hand on his wrist is warm, and very much alive, an anchor among the dead. 

By the time they shuffle into the cafeteria, Dave can even hear his own footsteps.

It’s too early for the breakfast rush, but it’s a hospital, so it’s not totally empty, and they’re already serving food. Diego shoots him an appraising look. In reply, Dave nods, smiling tensely, and Diego takes it as a signal to drop his wrist - with slightly less emphasis than he might have expected from a hypermasculine guy like Diego - and start looking at the food on offer. It all looks rubbery and tasteless, but Dave feels hollow, shaky, like he hasn’t eaten anything in ages (which isn’t far off the truth). He orders a pile of scrambled egg on toast. It’s the most edible looking thing there. Diego, on the other hand, turns his nose up at the options and in the end takes some bland looking oatmeal, although he doesn’t look excited at the prospect. 

They sit in the back corner. It’s not quiet, but at least ghosts can’t sneak up on Dave like this.

Dave takes a bite of food, and suddenly realises that he's ravenous, digging in like someone might take it away from him. Diego, on the other hand, pokes at his food, unenthusiastic. The oatmeal looks grey and slimy.

“Why did you order it if you don’t even like it?” Dave blurts, mouth still half full (which his mother would be horrified to see).

With an acerbic glare, Diego says, “The rest of it all fried, buttery crap. You’d think a hospital would have more healthy options.” Defeated, he pushed the bowl of oatmeal away from himself.

“A little butter won’t hurt you, dude,” Dave says, pushing his breakfast towards the centre of the table. “Here, have some of mine.”

“No way,” he says. “That shit’s way too fatty. My body is a _temple.”_ He slaps his abs, as if for emphasis.

At that, Dave can't contain his laugh. "Oh my god, that's pretentious."

Diego all but gasps. "What? No! I'm being serious!"

"That's even worse!" Dave bursts out, a hand over his mouth.

"Shut up!" says Diego, but he's on the verge of laughing, eyes bright. 

"Who even says that?" 

Voice shaking with repressed laughter, Diego counters, "Lots of people say that! It's a common phase!"

"Oh, man," Dave breathes, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. He suspects he's been awake too long, because he feels giggly in a way that borders on hysterical. "Just eat some eggs, dude, we're all gonna die someday."

He grouses, "I hate you," but he does steal a spoonful of eggs. "Alright, then, what did you want to talk about?"

Dave falters. Really, he had wanted Ben present for the whole _powers_ talk. "Uh. Lots of things."

Unimpressed, Diego questions, "Such as?"

"Like… insurance. Does Klaus have any?"

This is evidently more mundane than expected, because Diego blinks at him for a moment like he's speaking gibberish. "Yeah, the old man still pays it," he says eventually. "What else?"

But Dave isn't done deflecting. "What's the plan with Klaus? They're going to want to send him to rehab."

Diego winces. "He's not gonna like that."

"And that's assuming that there's no lasting damage from the overdose," he continues. "Either way, he might need somewhere to stay after he's done. I'll offer mine, but I don't think he feels safe with me."

"So he'll stay with me," Diego says, seemingly offended by the question, despite the fact that Diego had taken himself off the emergency contact list. Still, Dave can't bring himself to doubt Diego's devotion to his brother, and it's a relief to hear that he's prepared to be there for Klaus when he needs it. 

Dave nods. "Okay, good."

Unfortunately, Diego isn't so easily distracted, and his eyes narrow with suspicion. "What else did you want to talk about? What are you not telling me?"

Shit. "Uh…" Dave hesitates, mechanically slicing his toast into progressively smaller pieces. "Well, I have a theory, I guess, about Klaus and his powers. It's just a theory, though, I might be way off-"

"Just tell me," commands Diego.

"I think his powers make him immortal," Dave blurts.

Well… that's one way to do it.

Diego’s mouth opens, then closes again. He looks thoroughly, aggressively stunned. “Im-m-” He swallows around the stammer, lips pressed together tight, eyes pinched. “Immortal?” he spits out.

“Or something like it,” Dave confirms. “Apparently he OD’s pretty regularly, right?”

“Yeah,” says Diego warily.

Dave continues, “But usually he just jumps right back up, like nothing’s happened.”

“He’s been lucky,” Diego says, like he wants it to be true.

“I’m sorry, but you don’t just _shake off_ an overdose, especially if you’ve had your heart shocked back into rhythm.”

He’s shaking his head before Dave’s even finished. “So what’s the alternative? He’s _immortal?_ That’s ridiculous-”

“Not anymore.”

Diego stops. “What?”

“He _was_ immortal. Not anymore,” Dave explains. “Look, maybe you’re right, maybe it’s just coincidence, but-”

“The coma.” Diego says numbly. “He’s never- All those past overdoses, they were never that serious, but now…”

“Now he doesn’t have his powers to save him,” he finishes grimly.

Looking vaguely gray, Diego clamps his hand over his mouth, like he’s about to be sick. From behind his hand, he mumbles, “Fuck.”

“Pretty much,” Dave concludes, voice heavy. He runs a hand through his curls. 

Diego looks up at him, and something in his expression switches from uncertain to determined. “So you have to give him his powers back.”

_Ah_ , Dave thinks, _good ol’ dependable Hargreeves logic._

“It’s not that simple,” he protests tiredly.

“Uh, it sounds pretty fucking simple to me,” says Diego.

“I’m not going to force these powers on him,” states Dave. “I won’t do it.”

Diego hisses, “You don’t have a choice!”

“No, I do. And so does Klaus. I won’t take that away from him.”

“But what if- what if he-” Diego doesn’t say the word _dies,_ but it hangs in the air like a foul stench.

“I don’t want that either,” says Dave. “Which is why we’re going to talk to him.”

As if this is a foreign concept, Diego echoes, “Talk to him?”

Deadpan, he adds, “It involves using our words to communicate our thoughts and feelings.”

Flushing, Diego says, “Shut up. I just meant, talking to Klaus about this shit never goes well.”

“Worth a shot,” Dave says with more confidence than he feels.

It's clear from his expression that he doesn't agree, but instead of arguing, Diego sighs, "Let's get this over with."

The walk back is just as overwhelming as the walk there, but Diego doesn't hesitate to guide him along, and soon enough the ghosts begin to thin out as they stride through the coma ward. It's still fairly active, but the ghosts here are, on the whole, quiet ones.

Klaus’ door is open; it seems the doctors are done with their testing. Maybe he’s asleep.

He’s not asleep.

As soon Dave shuffles into the room, green eyes snap towards him, wide with surprise, and then with wariness. Diego slides in behind him, and Klaus looks shocked all over again - he clearly doesn’t remember waking up with them there - and his hands ball up the hospital blanket. "Hey," he croaks, and he doesn't sound like Klaus at all. He just sounds… small.

"Hey, bro," Diego says. "Congrats on not dying."

Dave sucks in a breath, but Klaus seems unbothered, letting out a little, " _Wahoo_ ,” and twirling the hand that doesn't have the IV in it. Ben, who haunts the corner by the window, smirks.

“How are you feeling?” asks Dave.

Klaus blinks at him, like he wasn’t expecting the question. “Fine,” he says slowly. “You know me, takes more than a little coke… and molly…and- well, takes more than a bit of drugs to keep me down.” His smile looks brittle.

“Well, they did keep you down this time,” Diego corrects him. “It’s been, what, five days?”

“...What?” 

Softly, Dave explains, “You were in a coma, man.”

Klaus wets his lips. “Uh- yeah, I guess the nurse did mention something. Guess I’m just feeling a little… foggy.”

“That’s to be expected,” says Dave.

“Listen,” Diego says bluntly, “you need to take your powers back.”

All at once, Klaus turns bone white.

_“Diego!”_ Dave scolds.

Unapologetic, Diego defends, “What? Someone has to say it!”

“Oh, here we go,” Ben mutters.

“Not really, no,” Dave says. “Klaus, you don’t have to take your powers back.”

Eyeing him warily, Klaus says, “Good?”

Contrary as ever, Diego shoots Dave a glare. “Actually, Klaus, yes you do.”

Klaus laughs nervously. “Kinda getting mixed signals here, guys.” He scratches the crook of his elbow, hands trembling.

“We can talk about this later,” Dave says gently, taking a seat, after taking care to pull it out of arm's reach of the bed. No need to make Klaus feel any more cagey than necessary. “You only just woke up.”

“He’ll sneak out whilst you’re still pussyfooting around,” remarks Diego.

“Diego-”

“Klaus, you’re going to die if you don’t take these powers back.”

Dave feels the air leave his lungs.

Almost silently, Klaus utters, "What?" He looks stunned, but not nearly as afraid as Dave had expected.

"I have a, uh, theory I guess? About your powers, and your overdoses." Dave looks to Ben for help, but he just presses his lips together and shrugs. "So, uh, from what Ben's told me, this has never happened before, right?"

Klaus shakes his head. "I've overdosed before, plenty of times."

"Sure, sure, but apparently it never really… I mean, from what I've heard, it sounds like you would die and then come back good as new," says Dave.

"The miraculous healing power of Naloxone," Klaus drawls, unimpressed.

"Your heart stops," Ben says, exasperated, forgetting that Klaus cannot hear him. "Your heart stops beating, Klaus!"

“Ben says that your heart stops,” Dave relays.

His eyes flicker in Diego’s direction, but Klaus doesn’t miss a beat. “Yeah, and then they shock me back. So what?”

Dave pinches the bridge of his nose. He’s _way too tired_ for this conversation. “That’s not how defibrillators work. They’re for resetting the rhythm, not _restarting a heart._ Do you realise how rare it is to resuscitate someone who doesn’t have any heart activity? The odds of surviving that once, let alone several times-”

“So I’m lucky-”

“Klaus,” Diego bursts out, “will you just shut up and listen for a second?”

Klaus hisses, “I’m listening, you’re just not making sense! I mean, christ, what are you saying? That I’m _immortal?”_

A beat.

“Not anymore,” Dave says, subdued.

Realisation crashes over Klaus’ face, and he breathes out a tiny little _oh._

And then he starts laughing.

It’s not a happy laugh. It’s harsh, tinged with hysteria, high and sharp like shattering glass, and it cuts at Dave. He starts, “Klaus…”

“I just-” Klaus chokes out, face pink, “I just think it’s so fucking funny-... useless Number Four, with the shitty, useless powers…” He buries his face in his hands, shoulders shaking. Then, between gasps for air, he freezes. “Diego, you didn’t tell anyone about this, did you? Dad doesn’t know, right?”

With an air of offence, Diego retorts, “Do I look like Number One? Of course not.”

The urgency drains from Klaus. “Okay. Okay, good.”

Dave doesn’t want to know why Klaus is terrified of his father finding out, but he can imagine all too well, and it makes his chest burn with a protective instinct which is surprisingly fierce, considering how much time he's actually spent with Klaus.

“So,” Diego says, “you have to take your powers back.”

Klaus sours. “No.”

“What do you mean, no?”

“I mean _no._ No, non, net, _no,”_ snarks Klaus.

Diego’s hands tighten into fists at his sides. “What, so you’re just going to die instead?”

“I’ll be more careful,” Klaus placates. “I won’t mix shit together, and I won’t buy from shadier dealers, and it’ll be fine.”

“Don’t be an idiot,” says Diego. “You’ve been OD’ing since we were kids, you aren’t going to stop now.”

Eyes narrowed, Klaus says, “Well, maybe it’s not even true! Maybe Dave’s just making up some bullshit to pass the ghosts back to me.”

That… That stings. “Klaus-”

“Mr Hargreeves.”

Dave startles, hard. In the doorway, the nurse is standing, a begrudging smile on her face.

“Evelyn!” Klaus calls cheerfully, not missing a beat. "Oh, how I've missed you!"

"I didn't think you were gone long enough to miss me," the nurse replies archly. "How are you feeling?"

"All the better for seeing you," charms Klaus, with not a hint of the tension that lingers in the room like a bad smell.

She raises a single eyebrow. "Now now, are you really going to flirt with me in front of your boyfriend?"

Klaus blinks. "Oh, well," he fumbles, trying not to let on that he's confused.

"Especially considering you found yourself a good egg here," Evelyn continues with a sly grin that tells Dave that she knows _exactly_ how much Dave had lied about. Innocently, she tells Klaus, "He hasn't left the hospital since he found out you were here. It's hard to find a man that dedicated, so you hold on to him, you hear me?"

Dave is…

He's blushing. He's definitely blushing. Shit.

"Huh," says Klaus, unreadable.

The nurse bustles around the bed, checking on the IV and jotting a note in Klaus' chart. "Well, I'll get out of your hair. Dave, honey, please go home soon, okay? Or I'm going to have to kick you out myself."

"I'll take that under advisement," Dave says meekly.

"You'd better," she throws out as she leaves.

There's a brief, unsettled silence in her wake. Then, Ben says, "Wow. That was, like, _so_ embarrassing for you."

Outraged, Dave cries, _"Ben!"_

Klaus asks, "What did Ben say?" His tone is even, but he looks squirrelly like he gets when Ben is mentioned.

"He's just being a dick."

"I'm not a dick for pointing out the obvious."

"Come on, man," Dave whines, "I thought we were friends. We watched the whole extended cut of Lord of the Rings together."

Ben deadpans, "That meant nothing to me."

“Oh my _God,”_ Diego says, “will you _shut up_ and get back to point?”

The levity in the room abruptly disappears. Klaus groans, “Are we still on that?”

Dave’s pretty sure Diego’s eye starts twitching at that. “Yes! Yes, we’re still on that!”

“Okay, okay, listen,” defuses Dave. “Klaus, no one can make you take these powers back if you don’t want them-” (Ben refutes this under his breath, but Dave soundly ignores him) “-but as your friend, I really hope you decide to do something about this. I don’t want the next call from the hospital to be from the morgue.”

Klaus swallows. “Look, I- I’m not taking my powers back, and I’m not getting sober either. But… I guess I could quit the heavier stuff.”

Diego makes a sound of protest, so Dave quickly blurts, “That’s great!”

“I’m still drinking,” Klaus says, “and smoking weed. Maybe the odd benzo, as a treat.”

“That sounds reasonable,” agrees Dave.

“Seriously?” mutters Diego, seemingly less content with the compromise.

Defiant, Klaus adds, “And I’m not going to rehab.”

“Fine,” Diego says gruffly, “you can come stay with me for a bit.”

“Fine.”

" _Fine."_

Dave settles back into his chair. It certainly isn't a guarantee, but he's relieved that Klaus is willing to do _something_. Dave tries not to be disappointed that he still has these powers, although some small part of him is bitter all the same; he had come so close to finally being rid of the ghosts. Still, most of him is just grateful. Maybe it's worth it, bearing these powers, if it means that Klaus has a shot at getting, if not sober, a little closer to functioning, a little closer to happiness, the kind that doesn't come in a needle. He'll be staying with Diego too, getting off the streets. Maybe Dave will be able to sleep better, knowing that Klaus has somewhere safe to do the same.

In fact, sleep sounds pretty good right now…

" _Dave."_

"Wha-" Dave startles upright, disoriented, to find the Hargreeves all staring at him. "What?"

Ben supplies, "You were falling asleep."

"When did you last sleep, man?" Diego asks.

Scrubbing his palms over his face, Dave says, "Depends. What day is it?"

Diego snorts. "Go home. I've got this from here."

"Alright," says Dave, stumbling to his feet. He feels distinctly light headed. "If you need anything-"

"Yeah, yeah," Diego brushes him off. 

"Feel better, Klaus," he mumbles, turning towards the door.

"Wait," calls Diego. "Aren't you forgetting something?"

Dave blinks. Squints down at himself, like he might find something amiss.

"My powers, dude," Diego says, holding out a hand.

“Oh.” Now that he’s thinking about it, he can kind of sense these new powers, sitting in his chest next to Klaus’. Instinctively, he tugs on them, and gives Diego’s hand a quick squeeze, feeling the power slip between them obediently, whilst the cold sliver of Klaus stays rooted in place. Diego shakes his hand out like it stung. “Alright, I’m out. Ben?”

Ben says, “I’m gonna hang around a while.”

“Alright, see you at home,” says Dave, waving absently as he shuffles over to the door. He’s probably too sleep deprived to drive, he realises. He hopes he has enough cash for a taxi.

“Dave?”

He spins on his heel to face Klaus. “Yeah?”

Klaus looks down at his hands, spindly fingers twisting together. “Uh. Thanks.”

Squinting, Dave asks, “What for?”

He shrugs. “Just- Thanks.”

“Well,” says Dave, lost, “you’re welcome.”

“Okay,” says Klaus, smiling a little. “See you around, Davey.”

Dave beams. “See you later.”

(He takes a taxi home, and all but collapses into bed. He’s exhausted, chest aching, hungry but vaguely nauseated, and yet he can’t stop smiling.)

(Klaus had called him _Davey.)_


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks to everyone who's been commenting, y'all are the only thing keeping me motivated right now and i love you all for that<3 not many warnings here, just some anxiety/a near panic attack i think? so, the usual

Dave has promised his therapist that he’ll go outside more.

It’s a sensible goal, he figures. Since the ghosts, he’s become a bit of a recluse, finding it easier to stay at home where the ghosts were, if not quiet, familiar and mostly predictable. Dave's been afraid of attracting attention, making himself noticed. What if ghosts follow him home? He doesn't want to imagine how he would cope if he picked up an entourage.

It's not a sustainable lifestyle for him. Dave's always been extroverted, a people person. Doing his work from home, not visiting his friends places, avoiding it all, it isn't helping him. Hence his goal.

So, he waits for a sunny day when Ben's around, and takes his anxiety medication before he goes. It helps, knowing he's got one ghostly friend on his side. Ben is happy enough to be included. Apparently, although Ben often explores the land of the living, it's not as fun when you can't interact with it. In this case, Dave's happy to be a conduit between worlds.

They start by checking out a new coffee shop nearby. Ben can’t eat anything, but he seems happy enough to people watch and make snarky comments until Dave snorts and almost chokes on his cappuccino. Then Ben notices that the barista left her number on the napkin and delights in making fun when Dave’s face goes red and hot, because as much as the waitress is very pretty, she’s very much barking up the wrong tree. Why do people always assume he’s straight?

“Maybe I should put a rainbow pin on my jacket,” says Dave as he flees the coffee shop.

“The eyeliner is usually enough for Klaus,” Ben muses, “although it kind of sucks for him since he’s into girls.”

“He is?”

Ben grins. “Don’t worry, he’s plenty into guys too.”

Dave splutters, “I wasn’t- I didn’t mean-”

Unconvinced, Ben just smirks at him. Bastard.

Which, sure, it’s not like Dave hasn’t thought about it. Klaus is- well, there aren’t the words for it, but Dave would suggest _beautiful, spellbounding, alluring, intriguing-_

But, it doesn’t really matter. If Dave didn’t have these shitty powers, then maybe, maybe he could have asked Klaus for coffee, or bought him flowers, or taken him to dinner, or one of the other thousand scenarios that haunt his kinder dreams, but that isn’t reality. The reality is, Dave can’t ever touch Klaus, no matter how much he wants to. (God, does he want to. Not even in a sexual way - well, yes, maybe a little, but more than that - he just wants to brush a hand through his curls, to stroke the sharp line of his cheekbone, to knead the tense line of his shoulders until Klaus opens and relaxes.)

He hasn’t seen him since the hospital, although Ben keeps him updated, and Diego sometimes calls with news, or more accurately, rants about what Klaus has been annoying him with recently. Dave’s happy to hear from him, although it takes all of his self-control not barge into their lives under the guise of helping. His hero complex has been begging him to intercede, but he knows that it won’t help Klaus to feel safe there, and if Klaus is to get somewhat sober, he needs to feel safe. So Dave will keep his distance.

He tries not to feel too sorry for himself, and sometimes it even works.

Ben mimes kicking a stone, hands in his pockets. “Wanna go to the movies?”

“To see what?” Dave asks, deftly dodging what he’s _pretty certain_ was a ghost. 

“What about the second Captain America?” Ben suggests hopefully.

“I’m pretty sure that’s not showing anymore.”

He stops. “What? I thought it just came out?”

“Nope,” says Dave. He crosses the street abruptly to avoid a cluster of ghosts up ahead.

“I’m gonna check,” Ben says, and then he’s gone. 

Anxiety swells in Dave’s chest, making his breath go ragged, like his thumbnail where he has chewed it off. It shouldn’t make a difference, being alone out here, but it does, somehow. Knowing that at least one of the ghosts are on his side usually stops his brain from declaring them a _hostile force,_ stops him regressing back into a fighting mentality, stops him from reaching for a gun that he doesn’t carry.

He’s stopped in the middle of the street, Dave realises. People - living and dead - are skirting past him, stepping out onto the street to get by. He shakes himself, and starts forward, counting his breaths until he’s feeling more in control.

Naturally, just when Dave starts to feel okay, Ben makes his return.

“Captain America isn’t showing anymore,” he reports.

Dave masks any lingering anxiety (not wanting Ben to feel bad for leaving) and says, “We can go look at some books? I can flip the pages for you?”

Brightening, Ben says, “Hell yeah.”

The pair stroll down to the bookstore, idly discussing book recommendations, only to come to a puzzled stop outside. The place is packed, with a queue just to enter. From here, they can’t see what’s going on inside, but Dave suggests it could be a book signing going on. Ben stands on his tiptoes to try to glimpse inside, but is unsuccessful, and he’s unwilling to walk _through_ anyone; apparently it’s not a pleasant sensation. He resigns himself to wait his turn with Dave. 

“Maybe it’s George R. R. Martin,” says Ben.

Dave raises an eyebrow, and, under his breath, asks, “Why would George R. R. Martin be here?”

“Why would any famous author be here?” Ben counters. 

“Touché,” says Dave. The lady in front of him side eyes him, clearly unsettled by him speaking to an empty space, and scoots a little further forward.

At Dave’s sigh, Ben says, “That’s nothing. You should see the kind of looks Klaus used to get when he would argue with me.”

This isn’t the mood lifter that Ben seems to think it is. “Ouch.”

“Ah, y’know Klaus,” says Ben. “He never notices that kind of shit.”

Dubious, Dave replies, “He sure acts like he doesn’t notice.”

Ben rolls his eyes. “I know you’re, like, in love with him or whatever, but he’s not that deep.”

He sucks in a breath. "Okay, first of all, I'm not _in love,_ I just like him and respect him and think he's worth more than he knows-"

"Dave-"

"And secondly, everyone's deep! Nobody is actually just the shallow version of themselves that they present to the world! Just because you don't know-"

" _Dave,"_ Ben shouts.

The crowd around them are staring at Dave with expressions ranging from pity to wariness, parting slightly to put some space between them and the guy arguing with thin air, and usually Dave would feel humiliated, but right now he's too busy staring, bug eyed, at the poster proclaiming _Extra-Ordinary: My Life As Number Seven._

"Oh, shit," says Dave, "is that-?"

"Vanya," Ben says flatly.

Dave repeats, "Oh, shit." 

"It's a book signing. For her autobiography. About The Umbrella Academy."

Redundantly, Dave points out, "This is bad."

"I need a copy."

"Ben-"

The ghost looks at him with determined grimness. "I need you to do this for me. I need to know what it says."

Dave swallows. Reading this book is probably a bad decision, but… isn’t it Ben’s decision to make? "Okay. Okay, let's go."

It isn’t difficult to find a copy; there is a table at the front of the shop dedicated to Vanya’s book, stacks of copies, all with that same young, hollow face printed in sepia tones. The book is heavy in Dave’s hand.

The cashier chirps, “That’s twenty-five dollars.”

“Twenty-five?” echoes Dave, frowning.

“Fifteen for the book,” she says with a too bright smile, “and ten to get it signed.” 

He balks. “Oh, that’s okay, I wasn’t planning-”

Ben gives him a Look. It’s impressively loud, considering he didn’t actually say anything.

Relenting, Dave says, “Okay, sure, thanks.”

They join a queue snaking towards the back of the store. The other customers all clutch their own copies, ducking their heads together to gossip and speculate, quoting their favourite, most salacious passages. It turns Dave’s stomach. Ben looks drawn and guarded, and he can’t seem to peel his eyes from the photo of his sister. The queue shortens steadily.

“What do I say to her?” Dave hisses out of the corner of his mouth.

“I don’t know,” Ben says, a touch defensive. “I didn’t exactly plan for this.”

Dave mutters, “I didn’t even want to get it signed,” but Ben’s attention is already lost. 

At the end of the queue is a small, pale woman, signing books with a dogged focus, smiling thinly. She looks… unobtrusive. Not satisfied, not victorious. Not guilty, either. Not like someone who has just violated her sibling’s trust. 

Ben breathes, _“Vanya.”_

The space between them gets eaten up fast, too fast, and Dave scrambles for something to say. Does he mention that he knows her brothers? Does he play like a genuine fan? He wishes Ben would say something, anything, tell him what to do, what to say.

Before he can decide, Vanya looks up at him with tired eyes, and asks, “Who do I make it out to?”

Robotically, Dave passes his copy of her novel over, heart hammering, and he says-

“Ben.”

_Fuck._

Vanya’s expression shutters, just slightly, mouth thinning. It’s a common name. She has no reason to think he’s lying. “Sure,” she says, flipping open the front cover.

Dave looks at Ben, but his eyes are glued to his sister, expression unreadable. Before he can second guess, Dave blurts, “Did you talk to them about it?”

“What?” says Vanya, sharpie faltering on the page.

“Your siblings,” Dave continues digging the hole. “I mean, it just seems, uh… like they should know.”

Ben wraps his arms around himself, and turns his face away.

“It’s my story,” Vanya says. She doesn’t sound angry. The words flow fast, like they’re well rehearsed. “I don’t need their permission.”

“Right,” says Dave. He won’t try to argue with her. Vanya is lying to herself just as much as she’s lying to him. “Sorry.”

She finishes her signature, neat and painstakingly even, and pushes the book back towards him wordlessly.

Dave falters. He should be leaving, should let Vanya forget about this encounter, to go back to her book signing. Except that the eleven year old on the front cover really does look awfully sad. He fumbles for his wallet, and slides out one of the cards that he's been keeping handy since he started working with vets. Placing it carefully down on the table, Dave says, "I know this is none of my business, but that's the number for a really good counsellor. Just in case you're looking for someone to listen."

Vanya says, "I have plenty of people listening to me, thanks," with a meaningful nod at the rest of the queue. Her fingers dance over the card, not quite touching.

"Humour me," he says with a shrug.

There's a moment where he can see her eyes flash with affront, a spark deep in the depths of her dark eyes, but then is gone, and she just looks defeated. She slides the card off the table, and tucks it into her pocket.

Grateful, Dave says, "Thank you," before making a hasty escape.

The walk home is a silent one.

Dave has never been particularly comfortable with extended silences, and repeatedly tries - and fails - to spark up a conversation, but Ben just tugs his hood up and says nothing at all. The book feels heavier than it should in Dave's hand. He wishes he had just stayed home today instead, although he supposes Ben would have found out about the book at some point, would have seen the posters for it, of the magazine headlines talk about it, or overheard strangers gossiping about the intimate details of his life, and death-

And it's not just Ben, he realises with a sinking feeling. Klaus and Diego will surely find out about it soon. He should… call them? Is it better to find out organically, or have some warning from Dave? What if the book's popularity is short lived, and Dave brings it to their attention for no good reason? Maybe he'll ask Ben. That is, if Ben is still willing to speak to him, considering he's been silent as a shadow since seeing Vanya. Dave hopes he didn't say something wrong, make it worse somehow. He feels guilty, although he's not sure he could say why, and distinctly helpless. None of his go-to strategies apply here. He can't exactly make Ben tea and give him a hug, despite how clearly Ben needs one.

Holding the door open, Dave gives him a sympathetic smile, but Ben shuffles into the apartment without looking at him.

“I was thinking.” says Dave hesitantly, “that maybe I should call Diego’s?”

Ben nods vaguely; his eyes are stuck on the damn book. Licking his lips, he says, “Can you turn to the first page?”

His hands wrap around the book a little tighter. “Ben… are you sure-?”

“Positive,” Ben says.

“It might not be helpful,” reasons Dave.

“It doesn’t matter,” he replies, unflinching. “It’s my choice. Right? If you can let Klaus have that, then you can let me make my decision too.”

Dave winces. “Okay. Okay.” He flips the page and props in on the coffee table, weighing the corner down with another book so that it doesn’t move, and as much as he tries to keep his eyes off the text, he still manages to catch a handful of disjointed words, like _father,_ and _lonely,_ and _special._ Ben sits on the couch, and the movement is heavy, like he’s got a physical weight.

Whilst Ben reads, Dave thinks.

He's going to have to call the gym. Even if it hurts them, Klaus and Diego both deserve to know the truth, and Dave hates keeping secrets anyways. As much as he wants Ben's opinion, he knows he won't be getting any conversation from him for… however long it takes to finish this book. Dave can't wait that long.

"Turn the page," utters Ben. His voice is hollow, but his eyes are brimming with some unquantifiable emotion.

Glancing away, Dave flicks over the page.

In the silence, he takes to pacing by the phone, scrambling for the words that will make this a little easier. How do you tell someone that their privacy has been invaded on such a huge scale?

Ben says, "Next page."

Maybe it would be better to tell them in person? It seems like something so huge shouldn't be divulged over the phone, although he can't imagine Diego would feel comfortable inviting Dave into his space.

As Ben rapidly tears his way through the book, he starts to get more expressive. It's subtle at first, raised eyebrows and twitching mouth, small expressions that Dave catches as he paces. Then, a sharp intake of breath. Dave doesn't dare ask what he's read. Instead, he chews his nails, and glances periodically at the phone, hoping it'll ring when Diego or Klaus hear about the book, so that Dave doesn't have to break the news himself. The silence is punctured by a muttered, "I can't believe she would write that," but Ben doesn't break his pace, so Dave doesn't try to reply.

Dave is going to have to do it. 

Holding his breath, he picks up the phone.

And puts it back down.

He can't do it. He just can't. What if Klaus hates him for it, and Diego gets angry, and Klaus never lets him get near him, and Dave is stuck all alone with these ghosts until he eventually becomes one himself-

Fuck. He's spiralling.

Shaking his hands out, Dave counts his breaths until they level out. He can't do this, can't make this about him, not when he's got something so awful to tell them. It's his duty to tell them. They’re his- friends? Sort of. 

He punches in the number before he can talk himself out of it.

It doesn’t ring for long before it’s picked up with a rough, “Yeah?”

“Diego?”

A beat. “Dave.” His voice is flat, hard to read.

Dave shuffles his feet. “Uh, I don’t know if you’ve heard,” he says, “but I was at the bookstore earlier and-”

“I heard.”

The reply is sharp and toneless. Dave doesn’t know what to say. “I, um. I don’t know if you’ve had a chance to read it yet-”

Diego says, “What is your problem?”

At the sudden twist in the conversation, there's a swooping sensation in his gut, like the floor dropped out from underneath him. “What?”

“Seriously, _what is your problem?_ I can’t work it out. Like, you see that V-Vanya wrote this shitty book, and your first thought is, _oh, I can’t wait to rub it in their faces?”_

“What? No,” says Dave, scrambling to explain himself. “I just didn’t want you to find out from-”

“Right,” interrupts Diego. “Right, because you’re the hero, yeah? Swooping in to save the day?”

The vitriol in his voice is enough to burn, even through the phone. Dave swallows, mouth dry. “It’s not like that,” he says weakly.

“Don’t play innocent,” Diego says. “You don’t think I’ve noticed how you keep running around after Klaus, cleaning up his messes? I’m not _stupid._ I’ve seen you. It doesn’t matter how much you let him walk all over you, you know, he’s still not going to sleep with you.”

“Oh,” says Dave. That’s all he says. _Oh._

For a moment, there’s silence, and Dave wonders if Diego’s hanged up, but eventually he does speak again, voice gruff. “Well, he can be your problem now. He’s gone.”

Quietly, Dave says, “What do you mean?”

“I mean, he left. Guess he’s done playing along with your little semi sobriety plan. And I’m done running around after him.”

The dial tone rings out. Seems Diego did hang up, after all.

Robotically, Dave places the handset back onto the receiver. The air feels thin. Maybe there’s not enough oxygen, maybe that’s why he feels dizzy, why his chest is burning. 

Ben says, ‘Turn the page.”

Dave turns the page.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> pretty light on warnings i think? just references to drug use/relapse

The shock is starting to wear off.

Initially, Dave had been stunned, floundering for words in face of Diego’s cold fury. For the last few minutes, he’s been staring blankly into space, absently turning the page at Ben's command, whilst Diego’s words echo inside his head, alongside the screams of the not-so-distant dead. 

_-it doesn’t matter how much you let him walk all over you, you know, he’s still not going to sleep with you-_

In place of the numb surprise, a slow anger is bubbling.

Because, really, what Diego had said? Fuck that.

How dare he take all of Dave’s kindness, his goodwill and care, and throw it back in his face like that? After everything Dave’s done for him, for his brother, how could he?

_-right, because you’re the hero, yeah? swooping in to save the day-_

The anger is snuffed out as quick as it came.

Dave doesn’t even need to be a registered counsellor to recognise such blatant projection. It’s fairly obvious that Diego has a saviour complex, without even considering the child soldier aspects of it, and Dave imagines that Vanya would know it too. He wonders exactly what she wrote. Whatever it was, it was cutting enough that Diego's reverted back to the asshole he had seemed to be when they first met. Which sucks for two reasons. One, because Dave had actually started to think they were friends, despite how rocky things had started out. And two, because of Klaus. He had thought it was going well, that Klaus was safe, sticking to minor highs and living at a permanent address. Where is he now? In the time since leaving Diego's, he could be anywhere, could have taken anything. If there's anything that could trigger a serious relapse, this would do it. Even worse, Klaus surely has lost some of his tolerance for harder drugs; Ben had said that this is the longest Klaus has been off pills since they were teens. If he takes the same dosage that he used to-

He needs to find him.

Fuck Diego and his accusations. Klaus is his _friend._ And he needs help.

"Ben," Dave says urgently, "we need to go."

Not lifting his eyes from the page, Ben says, "I've still got a couple of chapters to go-"

" _Ben,"_ Dave repeats, frustration leaking into his voice. "Klaus might be relapsing right now-"

"I'm not his _keeper_ ," Ben snarls, suddenly on his feet. "I'm not just some extension of your crush, or some sad story in a book, I'm a _person._ A person." The anger fades, leaving Ben small and drawn. Dave tries not to think about what Vanya might have written about her dead brother.

"I know," Dave says haltingly, "I know that you're going through something right now, and I'm not going to pretend to understand it, understand what it's like. I really wish we had time for the breakdown that you deserve, but right now, Klaus is in danger."

Ben mutters, "Klaus is always in danger," but he doesn't sound like he means it. He fiddles with the drawstring of his hoodie.

"I promise that as soon as we have the time, you can get mad and yell as much as you want, but first-"

"-we need to find Klaus," Ben finishes tiredly.

Dave nods apologetically.

"Alright," Ben says. "Let's go."

He hurries to find his shoes and a jacket to ward off the unseasonable spring chill. Then, he grabs a second, just in case Klaus needs one: who knows whether Klaus had time to grab warm clothes before he ran out. Patting his pockets to check his wallet and keys are accounted for, he swings open his front door-

And ducks under a fist.

"Oh _shit,"_ his assailant cries, and for a second, Dave is so narrowed in on selecting a countermove that he almost doesn't recognise him.

"Klaus," he breathes, dropping his defensive stance.

Klaus flutters his hands, as if unsure whether to cover his falling mouth, or to reach out for Dave. "Sorry!" he blurts, "I want trying to punch you, I was just-"

"Knocking," Dave says in realisation. He laughs to himself.

"Bad timing," says Klaus.

"Or really good timing," Dave argues, unable to suppress his grin. "I was just about to go looking for you."

Klaus points at himself, eyebrows climbing up. "Me?"

Dave makes a show of looking around for someone else (or, someone living, considering the spirit milling around the hallway) and says, "Yep, you."

Eyes warm, Klaus says, "Well, you found me."

Realising that he's blocking the entrance, Dave steps back, beckoning Klaus inside, who barely hesitates, although he does make sure to keep his distance as he steps past. Despite - everything - Klaus seems comfortable in Dave’s apartment, tossing himself down on the couch and crossing his legs underneath himself. Dave wonders if it’s a sign of trust. Klaus had been the same when they had first met, all loose limbs and wide gestures, but Dave had put it down to the drugs. Maybe this is how he always is, taking up space unapologetically. Dave has never been like that. He’s always been a little too eager to fold himself up, to make room for others, constantly on the edge of saying sorry. 

He wishes he could be more like Klaus, but if not, at least he can admire Klaus splayed out on his sofa. The image does more to Dave than he cares to admit.

(Ben, sitting next to Klaus, rolls his eyes. Dave wonders how much of it showed on his face.)

“So,” Dave says, a little unsure how to start now that he’s here. He mostly wants to ask whether Klaus is sober, but he also doesn’t want to scare him off.

“So,” echoes Klaus. His eyes are clear and sparkling with amusement, and Dave gets the feeling he’s being teased, even though Klaus has barely spoken. There’s a golden moment where they just look at each other, sharing a silent laugh at their own expense, at their own awkwardness.

Then Klaus looks down…

And notices the book.

His reaction is deceptively subtle, barely noticeable. He doesn’t move, doesn’t frown, doesn’t look at Dave with accusation or shock. It’s in his eyes. Something behind them shutters, that open connection slamming closed, like he’s constructed his mental walls and barricaded himself inside. Voice easy, he says, “So you’ve read it.”

“Wha- _no,”_ fumbles Dave. 

Unconvinced, Klaus snarks, “Oh, so it’s just coffee table decoration? A weirdly large paperweight?” He hasn’t stood, but something in the line of his body suggests that he’s ready to run.

“It’s Ben’s.”

Klaus falters. “Ben’s?”

Dave glances towards the ghost, sitting beside his brother. “He asked me to buy it.”

“And you’re reading it with him?” Klaus asks, eyes squinted, skeptical.

“Just flipping the pages,” Dave swears. “Scout’s honor.”

Deflating back into the sofa, Klaus says, “You would be a boy scout.”

“I can’t tell if I’m being insulted or not."

He tilts his head, purses his lips. “Guess it depends. Y’know. Some people really go for the boy-next-door type.”

Dave can’t resist challenging, “Some people?”

The corner of Klaus’ mouth quirks up, and his eyes go wide, like he wasn’t expecting that response. “Sure,” he says with deliberate ambivalence. “Some people.”

Nodding, Dave presses his lips together to hide his smile.

Ben says, “This is disgusting.”

Dave jolts. “No one asked your opinion.”

“Well, you haven’t turned the page,” Ben snarks, “so I’m stuck listening to this terrible attempt at flirting.”

Pointedly, Dave drops down besides the ghost and turns the page, but Ben makes no move to start reading. Bastard.

Klaus clears his throat. "Ben's here?"

“Can’t get rid of him,” Dave says cheerfully.

Ben blows him a kiss. ( _Bastard.)_

“And you say _I’m_ bad at flirting,” teases Dave.

There’s a sound like Klaus is choking on air. Then, “He’s _flirting_ with you?”

“Someone’s jealous,” Ben sings.

“Ben,” Dave says, “Can you _not-_ ”

“Oh my god,” Klaus says, “he’s _flirting with you?”_

Dave cries, _“No!_ He’s just bullying me-”

“That,” Klaus interrupts, “sounds a _lot_ like flirting to me.”

Clapping his hands together, Ben crows, “Wow, I’ve never seen him so jealous!” 

Klaus leans in close, eyes sharp and narrowed. “What’s he saying? What did he say?”

“Nope! Nope, nope, nope,” Dave chants. “You lost Ben privileges when you shoved these powers off onto me.”

And just like that, the levity in the room evaporates.

The way Klaus shrinks back is something close to a flinch, and Dave hadn’t noticed how much they had inched closer to each other until Klaus pulled back to where they had started. Dave says, “Shit, sorry, I didn’t mean-”

The laughter he receives is light and airy and _wrong._ When Klaus laughs, it’s usually a beautiful sound, joyful, with a slight wheeze at the end from all the smoking he does. This isn’t like that. This one is hollow. “No, no, it’s a fair point,” Klaus says, waving his hand dismissively.

“No, really, I wasn’t trying to-”

"Just leave it, would you?" His voice is sharp with desperation.

Dave, of course, concedes. He wonders if there's anything he _wouldn't_ do if Klaus asked. 

Into the silence, Ben asks, "Had he read it?" with a nonchalance that fools nobody - not even Ben himself, if the resulting wince is any indication.

He clears his throat, and relays the question with an apologetic smile.

Klaus nods, like the question was inevitable. “Most of it. I skipped to the relevant chapters,” he says with a shrug. “Vanya was right about one thing; I really am a narcissistic bastard.” Despite the airy tone, it doesn’t sound like a joke, and Dave doesn’t laugh.

“No,” Dave denies. “That’s not- That’s not _narcissistic._ Of course you wanted to know what she said about you. I mean, if I were in your shoes, I would definitely do the same.” For some reason, Dave has always found it easier to admit to his failures when it’s for other people's sake.

"Sure thing, Mister Boyscout," Klaus retorts.

Dave insists, "I'm being serious. It's just human nature, isn't it? Besides-" he smiles sheepishly "-I've always cared a little too much about what others think of me."

At this, Klaus goes quiet, a little uncomfortable when faced with such honesty. He settles on, "Why were you looking for me?"

"Diego said you left," Dave says simply. "I was- _we_ were worried."

Klaus hums. His expression is hard to read, and he doesn't quite meet his eyes.

"Why did you come here?" Dave questions, a little too desperate to hear the answer.

"I didn't want you- Ben. I didn't want Ben to worry," Klaus says haltingly. 

With an impish smile, Dave says, "Ben was definitely worried. So thanks for checking in with… Ben."

"Well," says Klaus rolling up onto the balls of his feet, "now that Ben knows that I'm safe, I guess I should head out."

"Oh, sure," Dave says, attempting to mask his disappointment as he stands. "But, y'know, if you're ever in the neighborhood, feel free to drop by."

Half hopeful, half fearful, Klaus says, "Yeah?"

"Yeah," says Dave. The tops of his ears are burning. "I mean, I'm sure Ben would like that."

Ben says, "This is pathetic."

Dave loudly adds, "Ben would get worried, you know, if he didn't hear from you. Because he cares about you."

Nodding, Klaus says, “Well, _Ben_ doesn’t need to worry, but I suppose I can stop by sometime, if it’ll make Ben feel better.” He’s not quite smiling, but his eyes are alight with knowing amusement.

He bites his lip to disguise a grin. “Cool. Awesome.

“Cool,” Klaus echoes, taking a step backward without breaking eye contact, like he can’t quite tear himself away. Dave’s palms ache to touch him. 

“See you soon?” Dave asks, and hopes that Klaus doesn’t notice how needy his voice sounds, how breathless he is.

“Soon,” Klaus promises, and then, with a parting smile, soft and quick, he slips from the apartment.

Ben says, “That was gross.”

Dave whirls on him with a grin. “Weren’t you in the middle of something? Like, an existential crisis, or a mild panic attack? Don’t you want to get back to that?”

“Nope,” he says flippantly. “Stop deflecting and let me bully you.”

“Let’s get back to the freaking out,” Dave insists with a cheery tone. “What were you saying? Something about the book?”

“Fuck the book,” Ben says.

At that, Dave makes a considering face. “Mm. Yeah, I can get behind that. Fuck the book.”

“Let’s talk about that disastrous attempt at flirting instead,” says Ben. “Did you notice that you were blushing?”

“For fuck’s sake,” groans Dave, burying his face in his hands, because _yes,_ he did, thank you very much. 

“And using me as an excuse?” Ben continues to rib him with a shit-eating grin. “I mean, I may not have a ton of experience, but I don’t think bringing up dead brothers is generally considered an effective flirting technique.”

Grasping for a distraction, Dave swipes up the book from the coffee table, and suggests, “How about we go up to the roof and burn this book?”

Ben’s expression turns surprised and gleeful in equal measures. “Oh, hell yes.”

(In the end, they do burn the book, but it’s not enough to sufficiently distract Ben from teasing him. _Bastard.)_


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter fought me every inch but it's done!!
> 
> warnings in the end notes

Dave is _not_ going to call Diego.

Really, he does have a little self-respect, and he’s not about to be the kind of guy that lets his friends treat him like shit. What Diego had said was completely out of line. Dave's had his fair share of toxic friendships - as a chronic people pleaser, his highschool experience had been a study in appeasement - but he's had enough therapy to recognise when someone's crossed a line. 

That doesn’t mean Dave doesn’t worry about him. He plays back that last conversation in his head when he's trying to fall asleep, thinking of the ragged way that Diego had spat those words out, his voice steeped in pain and betrayal. He hopes Diego is doing okay. He hopes that Diego will reach out to someone, even if it's not him.

Ben checks in on him. Usually he returns with a sour smile, telling Dave of his newest exploits. Apparently Diego has been training non stop, going more seriously into the whole boxing sidegig, and when he's not pounding a punching bag, he's on the streets playing at being a vigilante. It's certainly not the healthiest coping mechanism. Although, Dave knows, it could have been worse. Even healthy, stable individuals wouldn't react well to facing their childhood trauma publicised.

Whilst Diego is still incommunicado, Klaus has become something of a regular visitor.

Well, _regular_ might be overstating things, but he does make sure to check in once a week or so, ostensibly under the guise of reassuring Ben. Neither of them point out the obvious: Ben is more than capable of hunting Klaus down himself. In fact, Ben spends most of his time when Klaus is here fake gagging and rolling his eyes, even when Dave is being careful to keep things strictly platonic. Not that he _wants_ to keep things platonic - in fact, the borderline flirting had thrilled Dave to his core - but he doesn't want to risk this fragile, fledgling friendship. Klaus is more important than any crush on Dave's part.

Things stay in this slow, hopeful lull for a few months, and Dave finds himself smiling more easily than he used to. Summer blossoms, bringing sunny days and long evenings, and, when Klaus visits, crop tops and skirts, and healthy golden tans where there was once pale, thin skin. So when, on a quiet Thursday afternoon, someone knocks on Dave's door, he finds himself grinning at the sound. Like Pavlov's dogs; these days, the sound of that knock heralds good things more often than not. They’ll even have the place to themselves this time, minus the ghostly eyerolls that Dave suffers through when Ben is around.

The smile slides off of his face when he opens the door.

Diego shifts his feet, and all but shoves a six pack of beer into Dave's chest, eyes fierce, despite the way his checks burn red. 

Dave holds the beers, blinking. "Um. Hi?"

"Well?" questions Diego. "Are you going to let me in?"

The familiar absence of tact manages to jolt Dave out of his shock. “You’re actually asking permission for once. Progress.” He steps back to let the other man in, who looks like he would rather be anywhere but here. “So… what’s up?”

Fingers fluttering in a gesture that looks strange without a knife in hand, Diego points out, “I bought you beer.”

“I noticed,” Dave says archly.

Diego groans, as if the conversation is agonising. “Come on, fill in the blanks here, dude.”

“Is this an apology?”

A shrug. “Sure.”

Dave considers this for a moment, staring at the six pack that he’s dropped onto the coffee table. It’s not even a good brand. “This,” he says, “is the worst apology I’ve ever gotten.”

Combative, Diego snaps, “Fine, I’ll take them back and go, then-”

“Holy fuck,” sighs Dave, flopping onto the couch and breaking a bottle free from the pack. “Sit down, have a beer, maybe calm down a little.”

Nothing Dave has said seems to make Diego any calmer - and really, that wasn’t the intent, because it’s just too fun riling the guy up, particularly whilst he’s still feeling a little bitter - but Diego does sit down and swipe a beer up, fiddling with it in his hands, watching the liquid slosh inside like it might hold all the answers. His shoulders are up by his ears. He looks, Dave thinks, like a feral animal, meeting a human for the first time.

“So,” Dave says with a shit eating grin, “was there something you wanted to say to me?”

Diego huffs. “Look, I- What I said, last time, that was… I was pissed because of the b-book. You were just something to take it out on. It was shitty of me.” 

“And..?” cues Dave, drawing it out. 

The look he receives reminds Dave that Diego could murder him without even aiming. “ _And,”_ Diego hisses, before faltering. He picks at the bottle label with his thumbnail. Then, after much internal conflict, he mumbles, “M’ sorry.”

With as much obnoxious smugness he can muster, Dave says, “I accept your apology.”

“I hate you so much right now.”

“Careful,” says Dave, “or you’ll have to apologize _again,_ and then we’ll just end up in an endless cycle of apologies and insults.”

“Oh, no. This was the first and last apology I’ve ever given,” declares Diego.

Dave purses his lips. “Mm, that explains why you’re so bad at it.” Diego immediately puffs back up, so Dave adds, “Okay, okay, I’m done. I’ll play nice. What is it you wanted?”

“Who says I wanted something?” evades Diego.

Unimpressed, Dave says, “My ego isn’t so inflated to believe that you’ve learned to apologise just for me. Come on, what is it?”

Diego deflates. “I- I read the book.”

He takes a breath, and looks at the scene he’s found himself in: this poor, emotionally repressed asshole sitting in his favourite armchair, with an unopened beer in his hands, matching the one that Dave’s holding. Dave gets up. “I’m making tea.”

“What?” says Diego, expression baffled.

“I’m pretty sure you don’t even drink beer, and this seems like a tea kind of conversation.”

Diego echoes, not unkindly, “A tea kind of conversation? What the hell does that mean?”

“The kind of conversation where it helps to hold a cup of tea,” Dave says easily as he prepares two mugs, including a healthy dose of honey.

Diego doesn’t argue the point further, and accepts the mug, albeit warily, sniffing the steam like it might be poisonous. With his dark eyes still on the swirling depths of the tea, he asks, “Did you read it?”

“No,” says Dave.

The line of his shoulders loosens, just slightly. “It was fucked, man.”

“Yeah, that was kind of a given.”

“But…” Diego clears his throat. “I didn’t actually want to talk about the book. Not exactly.”

Dave’s eyebrows dart up. “Oh. Then what…?”

He runs his palm over his face, expression torn, before gritting out, “She wrote about B-Ben. About him dying. And she wrote about after, with Klaus… I forgot how he- I forgot.” He shakes his head, hard, as if shaking the memories away. “I thought about what you said. About- If I changed my mind.”

“Offer still stands,” Dave says softly. “If you’re ready.”

Diego doesn’t look ready, but maybe this is as close as he’ll ever be, because he says, “Tell me.”

Gravely, Dave nods. And then he tells him.

He tells him about that first time, when it had all seemed like a nightmare, or a psychotic break, because Dave didn’t even _believe_ in ghosts, not in any substantial way. He tells Diego about how he hadn’t believed in ghosts right up until Ben impatiently swiped his incorporeal hand through him. Dave tells him about the late nights, the sci fi movie marathons, the arguments and the teasing. He tells Diego about the version of Ben that Diego never had the chance to know. This version of Ben that is sharp, and angry, but still, at his core, somebody who cares about his family, cares about his siblings more than himself.

As he talks, Diego remains motionless, staring into his tea, so still that Dave wonders if he's even breathing.

At the end, he closes his eyes, and nods to himself. His mouth is a thin line, pulled tight so that his bottom lip can’t wobble and betray the immense pain that lurks in the hunch of his shoulders. He doesn’t look up. With a conversational tone, at odds with the shape of him, he asks, “Is he here now?”

“No,” Dave says softly, “but I can bring him here.”

“You can summon him?”

Dave makes a seesaw motion with his hand. “It’s more an art than a science, but it’s easier with Ben than most. Just- give me a second.” He scrunches his eyes shut, and reaches inside for the sliver of cold that sits in his chest, and the web that stretches out from it. It’s almost second nature, now, to find the right connection and give it a tug.

There’s the strange sense of a presence that resides in Dave’s head. And then-

“Dave, what…? Diego? What’s going on?” Ben asks, perplexed.

With a sweet smile, Dave says, “Your brother finally got his head out of his ass.”

“Is he here?” Diego questions, eyes darting around like he might see him.

“Right there,” says Dave, gesturing. “I, uh. I have an idea? It might not work - in fact, it probably won’t work, I’ve never tried it before and I don’t know if it’s even possible - but I can try.” He holds out a hand in offerance.

Diego's eyebrows disappear into his hairline. "Dave, I told you already, you're not my type-"

"Oh my fucking- Just shut up and take my hand," Dave grits out, ignoring Ben's askant eyes. 

Apparently assuaged that he isn't being hit on, Diego grasps his hand in a tight grip (what is it about dudes and their weird little macho competitions?) and holds on.

Dave had thought about this before, the possibility of it, but he's never attempted it, and he's not too sure where to start. It's like exercising a muscle he didn't know he had. He starts at the same place he always starts with these things: the small, cold sliver of power that resides in his chest. He knows it can be moved, because he's passed it between himself and Klaus a few times before, and he knows that Diego is capable of this transfer, too. In fact, he can feel Diego's own power gather in his hands, ready to pass over if he allows it, but he tries to keep that door firmly shut. Klaus' power isn't so eager, sitting steady in his chest, like it knows that it doesn't belong with Diego, but Dave grasps it and tugs it along, pushing at it until- 

Diego gasps, "Ben?" His eyes are huge and wet, and he reflexively reaches out, as if to touch him, pulling away from Dave in the process-

And the power snaps back like an elastic band. Dave sags, feeling somehow sapped, like it had taken physical energy to share his power. "Sorry," he says, trying not to sound as breathless as he feels, "I don't think I can keep it up if we're not in contact."

But Diego isn’t listening to the details of his power. “That was- That was _Ben,_ ” he says, still staring at the space where Ben still stands, watching back with hopeful, terrified eyes.

"Sure was," Dave says wryly, pretending, for Diego’s sake, to be unaffected by the blatant emotion in Diego's voice. "Ready to go again?"

Diego doesn't hesitate. He snatches up Dave's hand without looking away from where he last saw his brother. 

It comes a little easier this time. It still isn't easy - the power resists every step of the way, with Dave having to force it forward until it hums under his palms - but it’s not nearly so long until he hears Diego take a ragged breath, and say, “Hi.”

Sounding more shy than Dave has ever heard him, Ben says, “Hey, Di,” and Dave is sure he would be very invested in this reunion except for the fact-

It’s-

It’s _quiet._

Well, it isn’t, not really, not by normal standards. He can still hear through to the other side of the veil. He can hear the shouting out in the corridor, and the ghost that sometimes haunts his closet groaning to himself, and Ben and Diego talking, but, for the first time in a long time, he can hear other things, too. The hum of the refrigerator. The ticking of the clock on the wall. The way his own breath rushes in and out. All these mundane sounds that he had almost forgotten exist, that have been drowned under the roar of the ghosts for so long, until _now,_ until he shared this power, this curse. The ever present buzz of hearing the other side has been neatly halved. Dave can hear his own heartbeat, the rapid thumping in his chest. It’s overwhelming.

And he doesn’t have time for it. 

He can’t take a moment, not even a second, to think about any of it, because if he starts to think about it, he’s going to lose the fledgling control he has, and the heartfelt reunion happening in front of him will be cut short.

_Later,_ he tells himself. _Later, you can cry and scream and lose your shit, but right now, this isn’t about you._

So he packs it away. 

And he focuses on the brothers.

“-I missed you, too,” Ben is saying, voice shaky but sincere, his arms wrapped around himself, as if to prevent himself reaching out and reminding them all that he’s not really here.

Diego says, “Have you really been here the whole time?”

“Since after the funeral,” Ben confirms quietly.

With his free hand, Diego roughly swipes away the tears that have dared to escape. “God, I just can’t believe it. All this time… Fuck. I’m so sorry.”

Ben is shaking his head before Diego even finished the word. “No, don’t apologise to me.”

“But-”

“ _No,”_ Ben insists. “Look, what happened back then… we were kids. I don’t blame any of you for what happened to me. I never have. The only person responsible is dad, for putting us in that situation in the first place, and he’s the only person I want to hear apologise to me.”

Voice choked, Diego says, "Okay. Okay."

"That being said," continues Ben, "you should probably apologise to Klaus."

Diego splutters, "What? Hold on a second-"

"Look, I know more than anyone what a major pain in the ass Klaus can be, but Di… he's family. You hurt him."

At this, Diego turns his head away, but not before Dave catches his face crumple with regret. 

Ben softly finishes, "For the first time, Klaus was finally accepting help, and you threw him back to the streets. He needs to know it wasn't his fault."

"I was just- mad. Y'know?" Diego says roughly.

"I know," says Ben. "You're a Hargreeves. None of us are known for our healthy coping mechanisms."

He laughs, but the sound is tinged with sadness, the same sadness that lingers around Ben's eyes. 

(Dave feels his power wain, feel it becoming feeble with exhaustion, but he pushes through it.)

Diego says, "I wish it hadn't taken me so long. I've really missed you," and Ben's expression wobbles, dangerously close to tears. He opens his mouth to reply, and-

" _You!_ "

"Oh, shit," Dave says succinctly. 

It's pretty common for one of Diego's victims to follow him in, and Dave can normally do a pretty good job of ignoring them, because he figures it's probably rude to ask about the stabbed men who lurk and mutter darkly to themselves, and it's generally best to pretend you can't see them anyway. Unfortunately, Diego isn't familiar with this tactic. He’s staring at the ghost with open mouthed horror, and Dave tries to pull his hand away, but apparently Diego has reflexively decided to cling on tighter, and Dave’s sure it would be very sweet except for how it's _very inconvenient._

“W-What-” Diego stammers, unblinking, despite the way Ben has darted in front of him, blocking the ghost from view. 

Fuck. Dave scrunches his eyes closed, trying to focus internally, and pulls the power back from his palms and back towards where it usually rests, right under his heart. It goes easily. Diego sucks in a ragged breath, and when Dave looks, he finds him looking around as if the ghosts might be hiding behind the coffee table. And the noise-

It’s back. The crushing, agonising screams and cries and shouts of the dead, the sound beyond the veil. Now that he’s not sharing the power, it’s back in full force, pressing against his skin, exploding his ear drums, and his stomach turns. Even as exhausted as his limits are, these powers haven’t weakened.

Ben, voice back to barely audible over the noise, says, “Just us again, huh?”

The stabbed guy spits blood and says, “I’ll kill you, I’ll kill you, I’ll make you bleed-”

“Yay,” drolls Dave.

“What the fuck was that?” Diego demands, finally releasing his hand and sliding a knife from his jacket, but it’s not as smooth as the gesture usually is. He’s shaking slightly.

Dave looks at him. “You really haven’t been listening to me talk about the ghosts, have you?”

“But- You summoned him?” Diego asks, all betrayed and confused and whiteknuckling his knife like it would do any good against a spirit.

“I didn’t need to,” says Dave, and tries to find a kind way to explain, but fails. “You’re haunted.”

Apparently, this is news to him, although how he didn’t put ‘ghosts are real’ and ‘child soldier’ together, Dave doesn’t know. “I’m- So every time we talk, every time Klaus has stayed at mine-”

“It can get pretty crowded,” Dave says.

Diego nods, biting his lip until it turns pale under the pressure. “So,” he says, voice cracking, “I guess I owe Klaus a big fucking apology, huh?”

Smiling, Dave says, “The biggest. But hey - at least you’ve had some practice!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw: ghosts, references to blood, threats of violence/murder
> 
> on a side note, my tumblr url has changed from siriuspiggyback to cowboyklaus <3


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> content warnings in the end notes. some of them are new to this fic, so make sure to check if you need to <3

Everything is good.

That's not sarcasm, either. Things are, for once, going well. Dave's friendship with Diego is healing, albeit slowly and a little awkwardly. According to Ben, Diego is doing better, not pushing himself quite so hard. He's yet to apologise to Klaus, but Dave knows he wants to.

And Klaus-

Well. Dave tries not to be overly optimistic - Klaus is still flighty and full of false bravado, not quite letting his guard down - but he thinks it's going well. Klaus is still stopping by regularly, and his visits seem to be only increasing in frequency, with him finding little excuses to drop in on Dave, who always invites him in with an embarrassing eagerness. 

So things are going good. Great, in fact. Maybe the universe has decided to give him a break.

Which is why it's strange that Dave has to remind himself of it.

He should be happy, right? And he is, in a way; every time Klaus knocks on the door, Dave fizzes with excitement, and even on quiet days, he and Ben often find fun things to do together. Before- _everything,_ Dave had never thought of himself as lonely, but now he knows what it's like to have people he can be himself with, be honest with, and he knows that his life is fuller for it.

It would be easier, he thinks, to be happy, except for how half of him is still living in those five minutes of quiet. Sharing his powers had been amazing, and he's so happy that he could do that for Ben and Diego. Ben has been so much more cheerful since he finally had the opportunity to speak to his brother. To be seen. The knowledge that Dave did that, that he helped in a way that no one else can, almost makes it all worth it.

It's just that memory of _true peace_. It haunts him almost as loudly as the ghosts do, echoing in his ears, taunting him with what he can't have.

Why remind him of what used to be, when it's so far out of his reach?

He doesn't mention this to anyone. Ben is happy to have finally been acknowledged, and it wouldn't be fair to ruin that for him. Klaus is already feeling guilty enough, even if he pretends not to feel it, pretends that his powers don't exist and that he hasn't cursed Dave with them. Not that he blames Klaus - he refuses to be angry at him for escaping the thing he's been afraid of his whole life - but he doubts Klaus believes it. The way Klaus watches him sometimes… it’s like he’s waiting for Dave to finally get angry. 

So Dave can’t get angry. That’s fine; he isn’t a naturally aggressive person, and he’s got a good amount of self control. But he can still be _sad,_ can’t he? Can’t he mourn for the silence that he’ll never be able to keep?

And he’s been… drinking, again. 

Not the same as before, nothing quite so desperate, but the six pack that Diego had brought over has been steadily demolished, as well as the leftover vodka in the freezer, and the bottle of wine he had been saving for a rainy day. Not all at once. It’s just… when he starts thinking about that perfect, gentle quiet, it makes alcohol seem like a really good idea. It’s not out of control this time, not every night, and it’s only a little at a time; whilst he’s still on the beta blockers for his anxiety, any more makes him feel lightheaded and sleepy (which is harmless, just his blood pressure dropping a little, but unpleasant.)

Tonight, he’s had a little more than usual.

It’s just been a bad day. He had been working, doing some counselling over the phone, which is usually fine, but today he could barely hear his patient over the moans of the dead lady in the kitchen, and he ended up having to ask the guy to repeat himself a lot. Dave hates that the ghosts affect his work, his ability to help others. 

He’s been moping since, polishing off the last of the wine, listening to his Joni Mitchell record spin from where he’s curled up in his armchair. It’s not enough to drown out the dead. It never is.

With a sigh, he shrugs off the blanket he’s been wearing like a cape, stretching out the ache in his sternum. His scar has been bothering him more than usual. Psychosomatic, probably, but it hurts nonetheless. Dave's been slacking on his physiotherapy all week, so that probably isn't helping. He'll have to do that tomorrow; it's a bit late for a workout now. 

A shower, and then bed, he decides. Maybe things will seem simpler in the morning sunshine.

He turns the record player off, but keeps humming the tune as he meanders into the bathroom, trying to distract himself from the skinny teen who's shambling through the apartment. As long as Dave doesn't make eye contact, they probably won't follow him. Probably. 

“ _On a lonely road and I’m travelling_ ,” Dave sings to himself quietly. He’s always had a nice enough voice, but it’s gotten harder, now that he can’t hear himself quite so well.

The light of the bathroom is a ghastly sort of fluorescence, and his reflection looks pale and gaunt, shadows under his eyes and under his cheekbones. Dave rubs his palms over his cheeks, but it doesn’t do much to make him look any more alive. With one hand, he fumbles for the light switch; only when it’s pitch black does he begin to strip off his clothes. He can’t bear to undress with the lights on. Dave’s never been the self-conscious sort, but the sensation of eyes on him while he’s showering, whilst he’s vulnerable, shampoo in his eyes and soap on his skin, makes his stomach churn. Ghosts don’t seem to understand the concept of _privacy_. Some, he suspects, the crueler, sadistic ones, seem to find some depraved joy in watching him shy away from their gaze. He hates those ones the most. 

(As sick as it makes him, being watched like that, it makes him sicker to think that Klaus grew up with this - no privacy, no boundaries, and watched by ghosts who take advantage of that fact.)

Dave clears his throat, trying to pick back up on the tune as he peels his socks off. “ _Oh, I love you when I forget about me_.” He wobbles, balancing on one foot, and catches himself on the sink. Laughs at himself.

 _“I want to be strong…_ ” he croons, clambering into the shower, pulling the curtain closed before feeling around for the dial to turn the water on. It comes out cold, and he shivers. Voice trembling a little, he continues, “ _I want to belong to the living, alive, alive…”_ Dave jitters in place until the water begins to thaw. He can’t hear anyone else in the room, but under the sound of the water, it’s hard to be sure.

He finds the soap, and begins lathering up. The smell of the suds is strong in the air; with the lights off, Dave always finds himself picking up on things he never used to notice before. Idly, he sings, “ _All I really, really want our love to do, is to bring out the best in me, and in you too._ ” He hasn’t had a whole lot to drink, but in the dark, with nothing to ground him, he feels a bit like he’s floating. He’s not wholly sure it’s a pleasant sensation. 

“ _Wanna talk to you, wanna renew you, wanna-_ something, something… _Do you see, do you see, do you see how-_ uh-” He soaps up one foot, one hand braced on the cold tiles. “ _How you hurt me, baby-”_

It happens all too fast.

Lightheaded and slow from the wine and his anxiety medication, he sways in the dark, overbalances, and his feet slip out from underneath him-

He reaches out blindly, scrambling to find something to grip, wet hands sliding on the shower curtain-

Dave catches himself, white knuckling the curtain as he tries to get his feet under himself, and just as he thinks he might find his balance-

The curtain pole tears itself free.

In a tangle of limbs, Dave falls. Hard.

There’s a loud thud; it’s not clear whether it’s the pole hitting the floor, or Dave’s head hitting the edge of the sink.

And then-

Finally… silence.

  


* * *

A strange dream.

Grass under his feet, steel grey, like his mother’s hair when he last saw her.

A sunhat, but there’s no sun here.

“This isn’t right,” a child says. “This isn’t right at all. Another one?”

He won’t remember this dream when he wakes.

  


* * *

His head. His _arm-_

Fuck, it hurts.

And there’s something warm and sticky, matting his hair together, getting in one of his eyes. It’s pitch black, and he hopes it’s not because he can’t see.

He needs to… move. Get help. A phone, probably, so that he can call for help. He needs help. He needs help, and he’s alone.

A groan spills out from between gritted teeth, and he twists, trying to sit up, and-

_PAINPAINPAIN-_

* * *

He’s dreaming again. 

...Again? Did he dream, before?

A little girl says, “No, no, this isn’t how it works. I’m the one who decides who comes here, not the other one, and certainly not you!”

Frowning, Dave asks, “And who are you, exactly?”

“Who’d you think?” she asks, scornful.

Dave considers. “I don’t know. I suppose I’ve always sort of believed in a God, but I’m Jewish, so it’s sort of tradition to question-”

“Holy shit,” she snaps, “that was _rhetorical.”_

* * *

  


Pain. A thick, viscous liquid which stinks of copper. His right arm is immobile. It’s dark, and cold. His radio is gone, and his gun too, for that matter. Not that he could shoot, with a bullet still lodged in his arm. At least it wasn’t the chest again. 

His... chest-

Wait, no, this isn’t right, because there’s no sand beneath him, no stars above him, and in his ears, a loud-quiet thrum of-

Of-

“Ben?" he croaks out. How long was he out? (How long would his dead body have rotted without anyone knowing?) But there's no reply. Ben might have come back and found the place empty and dark and assumed Dave was out and now he's gone and he might not come back for hours, days, and he's left Dave all alone here and oh fuck it _hurts._

He hasn't been close with either of his parents for a long, long time, but for one aching moment, he wishes his mom were here.

His arm is (not shot, not blown up, he's not there anymore, he's home) broken, and he has a head wound. It's bleeding a lot. That's not too worrying in itself, but he was unconscious for a while, and he has a concerning inkling that he might have passed out more than just once. His thoughts are all jagged and watery and strange, and he can't concentrate. Even though he's on the ground, the world seems to be spinning. His hands feel cold and he’s breathing fast and shallow. Not good.

Ben. He needs to get Ben. He needs to get help, and he can bring Ben here, if he just thinks about it. Scrunching his eyes shut against the congealing blood, he roots around for that place inside him where his power resides. It feels thick and muffled, like it's wrapped in layers and layers of bandages, but he does manage to grab hold of the part of him that connects him to Ben and _pull._

Dave knows the instant he arrives. He's not sure how; he still can't see anything, and Ben is silent as the grave, but he knows it all the same. A sixth sense, almost. Ha.

Cautiously, Ben says, "Dave?" 

He sounds worried. Good ol' Ben, always so worried for everyone, even when he doesn't know how to express it.

Dave says, "Hey."

"Is everything…?" Ben trails off. He sounds closer.

"Um. I don't know. Is it dark?"

A beat. "Yeah?"

"Oh, good," Dave breathes. "I thought I might be blind."

"Yeah, no, it's definitely dark," says Ben. "Um. Dave?"

Sluggish, Dave says, "Yeah?" He's feeling kind of sleepy, actually. He thinks he would fall asleep if the room would stop spinning.

"Are we in your bathroom?"

Dave blinks. One of his eyelids is weirdly sticky. "Bathroom," he echoes, trying the word out. "Mm. Think so."

There's a pause, and Dave considers just giving in and taking a nap. He never sleeps great, these days.

"Wait," Ben says slowly. "Dave, are you on the floor?"

"Mm. Think so," Dave says, and his voice is slurring, which is weird, because he only had two glasses of wine. "'M not drunk."

Ben says, "You sound drunk."

It's true, so Dave doesn't say anything.

A heavy sigh. "I'm surprised you could even summon me after drinking this much," Ben mutters to himself. Then, "Come on, let's go get you some water, huh?"

Dave frowns. He doesn't think he needs water, although his mouth does feel dry. "No."

"No, come on," encourages Ben, "let's sober you up a bit. Just stand up and turn the light on, okay?"

"I can't," Dave says, confused. Why does Ben keep asking him to do things he can't do?

"Yes, you can," says Ben. 

Dave blinks against the stickiness in his eye. "But… I can't move."

When Ben speaks again, his voice has lost it's jovial, exasperated tone. Instead, he sounds uncertain. "Why not?"

“It hurts,” says Dave, voice catching. It hurts. It _hurts, it hurts, it hurts._

“What? What hurts? Dave?” questions Ben. 

“Everything,” Dave says, and then, “My arm. And- my head hurts.”

Ben takes an audible breath, which is silly, considering dead things don’t need oxygen. “Okay. Okay. What happened?”

“Um.” Dave isn’t too sure. Something about… a sunhat? No. What?

“Alright, first things first,” decides Ben, “do you think you can sit up at all?”

Dave almost shakes his head, but stops at the warning flare of pain in his temple. “No. Hurts.”

“I know it hurts, but do you think you could make it to the phone? I think- I think you need to call for an ambulance.”

“No,” Dave moans. His arm feels like it’s on fire, and he can’t imagine shifting even an inch, in case he makes it any worse than it already is. “No, please, _I can’t.”_ He can feel himself getting tearful, breath hitching, and it scares him even more because he’s not one to usually cry, not even when he hurts himself real bad. It feels strange and wrong and out of control, and he doesn’t like it.

“Shit, okay, alright,” Ben soothes, although his voice is too panicked to calm him much. “Dave, is anyone coming? Do you know if anyone is gonna be checking on you?”

“No,” says Dave mournfully. “Just you.”

Ben hisses through his teeth. “Dave, I- fuck, I can’t do anything. I’m sorry, but I can’t help you.”

The realisation crashes over Dave like a ton of bricks, like a piano falling from a great height. Of course Ben can’t help. Ben’s dead. Just like Dave will be, if he does nothing. No one’s coming for him, no one will even notice. Maybe Diego will call, or Leanne from work, and there’ll be no answer, but they probably won’t think anything of it. Klaus might drop by eventually, but he’ll give up when nobody answers the door, maybe think he’s being ignored and stop altogether. Dave’s parents phone him sporadically, but there’s been a lot of distance there for a long time, and they would assume he’s just busy. The only person other than himself with a key to this apartment is his landlord, and the rent’s already paid for the month.

It could be a very, very long time before anyone finds him.

“Fuck,” he says succinctly.

Gently, Ben says, “You just need to get to the phone and dial 911. You can do that, yeah?”

As much as Dave wants to say no, he knows it’s the only option. The only survivable option. “Okay,” he says. Bracing himself, he tries to get a sense of where he is, but everything is black and his head is spinning. In a small voice, he admits, “I don’t know which way the door is.”

“This way,” says Ben. “Just move towards me, okay?”

“Okay,” whispers Dave. A shiver wracks through his frame, jarring his arm, and he sucks in a sharp breath. “Fuck. Okay.” His bare feet slide along the floor, knees bent, and he uses his uninjured arm to lever himself off the ground. 

He cries out. The movement makes his arm shift, the bones grinding together sickeningly, and it feels like he’s being burned alive, the pain sparking through him. His stomach churns, and he twists around, retching onto the bathroom floor. The movement makes his head throb, and his eyes burn with tears, scared and miserable.

“Dave?” asks Ben. He sounds just as scared as Dave feels.

“‘M okay,” he attempts to reassure him, voice rough and breathless. 

Ben laughs, but it’s choked and distorted. “Yeah, you sure sound it.”

Dave’s head feels unnaturally heavy, like it weighs a ton, rolling on his neck. He desperately wants to sink back down to the ground, but he perseveres; if he falls now, he won’t be getting back up. “‘I’m okay,” he repeats. “Just. Dizzy.”

“I know,” says Ben. “It’s okay. Just move towards my voice, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Dave says, voice thick. Blindly, Dave scoots backward towards Ben, but he only makes it a few inches before his hand slips out from under him on the wet tiles, and he goes down hard, a yelp escaping him, like a kicked dog. He pants on the floor, pain washing everything away.

It takes a minute before he registers Ben speaking, and another before he can make out the words. “-uck, fuck, Dave, can you hear me? I don’t know what to do, I don’t know how to…” The sound moves in and out of focus, like tuning a radio, and Dave floats, eyes rolling, unable to focus on anything past the immense pain of his arm and his head.

He’s not sure if he passes out, or if he just stops remembering what’s happening, but for a while, there is only a foggy oblivion. 

When he’s able to think again, he realises that there’s no more talking. Quietly, he calls out, “Ben?”

There’s no response.

He’s left him. Ben has left him alone to die.

Panic claws at his throat, clamps his lungs closed. Ben’s gone, everyone’s gone, and he’s all alone now, forever, and he’s just _scared._ Where did he go? _Why_ did he go? “Ben?” he gasps out desperately. “Ben? Ben!” 

Unless… unless Dave’s gone deaf, as well as blind? What if his senses are shutting down one at a time, and he’s trapped inside his own body, trapped with the pain? Except, he can still hear _them -_ the indistinct hum of the other side. Although, does he really use his ears to hear that, or is it that other sense, the one he never had until Klaus came into his life? What if he’s deaf now to everything else except the long, endless groan of death?

Tears trail down his temples, soaking into his hair as he stares blankly up towards where his ceiling should be. He shivers, unable to stop, even when his body throbs like a poked bruise. His lungs shake and tremor with sobs that catch in his throat.

He doesn’t want to die alone.

Time passes fitfully, marked only by the frantic thud of Dave’s heart. After a while, the pain starts feeling… not better, not less, but further away. Not quite as urgent. Distantly, he thinks it’s probably a bad thing, but he can’t quite think why.

It’s cold. It always is, at night. It had surprised Dave, when he first got here, because the days were scorching under the desert sun, but the nights are a frigid, icy thing, stealing warmth from his bones. He wonders how long it is until dawn.

“Dave?” someone says.

He frowns. Who’s that? The voice doesn’t belong to any of his squad, and it’s too soft to be his C.O. 

“Dave, come on, say something.”

Slowly, Dave finds his mouth, his tongue, and mumbles out, “Wha…”

“Oh, thank fuck,” the voice says. “It’s okay, just hold on, I managed to- I don’t know how, but I got help. Klaus is coming, okay? Just hold on a little longer.”

“Klaus,” Dave echoes, latching onto the name. It’s warm and sweet in his mouth, like honey. “Klaus.”

“Yeah,” he says, “Klaus is coming, just stay awake, okay?”

“Klaus- Klaus can’t come in,” Dave slurs, blinking his eyes, wondering faintly why they aren’t working.

The voice questions, “Why not?”

“Because,” Dave says, scandalised, “I’m _naked.”_

A laugh, choppy with surprise. “I don’t think Klaus will mind.”

“But…” Dave’s thoughts are fuzzy, but he can remember the exact green of those eyes. “‘S not right. Not…. romantic.”

“Romantic?” prompts the voice, but Dave’s train of thought has slid away from him already.

“I’m cold.”

“I know.”

“I’m cold. Am I… dead?”

Sharply, the voice says, “No. No, you’re not.”

“Oh,” Dave breathes. “Tha’s good.”

“Yeah, it sure is. And we wanna keep things that way, so you’ve gotta stay awake, okay? Can you do that for me? Dave? Dave?”

This is the part where he’s supposed to answer, but he can’t find even a scrap of energy to do so. Just moving his ribs in and out is taking up more than he has, but that’s okay, because his body doesn’t really feel real anymore. Dave wonders if he’s dreaming. He thinks he would like to wake up.

A knock. A muffled voice in the shape of Dave’s name.

“Dave? Can you hear that? Klaus is right outside, you just need to hold on a little while longer.”

There’s a scraping sound for a minute, and then a thud. “Dave? Ben? Was that you? Helloooo, anyone home?”

Ben calls out, “He’s in here!” but there’s no response. Urgently he says, “Dave, you need to say something, anything, just let him know you’re here,” but Dave doesn’t know how, because he doesn’t seem to have lungs anymore, and he’s not sure he has a mouth either.

Footsteps come to a stop, close, so close. “Dave? You in there? Sorry to break in, but I just had a bizarrely detailed hallucination of Ben, and he seemed freaked, so… Dave?”

 _Oh,_ Dave thinks. _Klaus is here. It’s going to be okay._

“Alright, I’m coming in!” Klaus warns him, before the door creaks open. Light spills into the room, but Dave’s eyes won’t focus, and they slide closed without his permission.

There’s a gasp. Then, “D-Dave? Are you- Oh Christ, _Dave?”_

Hands touch him, his shoulder, his face. They’re warm. 

Dave smiles, and then it all falls away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw: depression, implied alcoholism, implied sexual abuse/childhood sexual abuse/voyeurism (nothing explicit at all), injury including head injury and broken bones, blood, implied temporary character death, anxiety/PTSD, nudity....... i think that's it?
> 
> sorry:)


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as you may have noticed, we now have an approximate chapter count! i finally planned out the rest of this, and there's still a way to go!
> 
> shout out to dan for the encouragement, and to noodlerdoodler for gently poking me to update <3

Dave is dreaming.

It's a familiar dream, worn from years of repeats, until the memory it's based around is faded and fuzzy, like old paper that has been folded too many times. 

In the dream, he's awake for the first time since he almost died, since he took a bullet to the chest, since he almost bled out under a foreign sun, and his parents are waiting for him to open his eyes.

So he keeps them shut.

That's all the dream is: Dave lying in the hospital bed, pretending to be asleep.

He remembers that, in the real event, this didn't work for long before his mom said, "David?" He had opened his eyes reflexively, and then it was too late.

In the dream, he knows what will happen if he doesn't pretend to sleep. Knows the way his parents will smile at him in relief, and then turn nervous. He knows how gentle his dad will sound when he breaks the news that _you've been shot, son, and you're going to be alright, but… you've been honourably discharged. I'm sorry, but it’s over._

He knows intimately the way his mom will grimace and reach for his hand to comfort him, and how Dave will try to keep his face blank, because he can't let them see how that statement fills him with nothing but _relief._

Dave might be a coward, but his parents don't need to know that.

Maybe it’s just delaying the inevitable, but if Dave can keep still long enough, can convince them that he really is asleep, then he might wake up before his mom speaks.

Except-

This dream isn't quite right.

For one, his chest feels fine. In the dream, he can usually feel that persistent dull ache that often plagues him, like the pain is triggering the memory of it. Right now, the pain isn't in his chest at all, but rather in his arm, his head.

And the second clue is that in the dream, it's normally _quiet._ Not silent - the steady beep of the heart monitor threatens to tip them off if he gets too worked up - but quiet enough to hear his parents shift in their seats. This is the opposite. He can barely hear the heart monitor over the roar of- what exactly? It's loud, and yet Dave can't identify what it is, or even which direction it's coming from. It's as if the hospital were built atop a busy train station.

The third inconsistency comes in the form of a voice that doesn't belong in this dream at all: "I can tell that you're awake."

Sleepily blinking his eyes open, Dave says, "Ben?"

The image that greets him convinces Dave that this isn't a dream at all; Dave's dreams are never this kind.

In the chair by the bedside, Klaus perches with an anxious air, legs folded underneath him, gnawing on his thumbnail. His eyes connect with Dave's, and he freezes. He looks beautiful - tired, eyes heavy, hair a bird's nest, but still _beautiful._

Behind him, Ben stands with his arms folded, like a begrudging angel upon his shoulder. He smiles.

Klaus sits forward and says, "Hey there, Davey." His voice is carefully soft, not at all as brash and cheerful as usual.

“Hi,” Dave croaks.

“How are you feeling?” Klaus asks, and Dave realises that this new, gentle tone is _worry. Concern._ For _Dave._

He assures him, “I’m okay.”

Biting his lip, Klaus eyes him, as if ascertaining the veracity of this. (Dave was telling the truth, though. Mostly. Except for his headache, and the throbbing in his arm. But really, he’s fine.) “Okay. Well, let me call the nurse in, and she can check.”

“No, wait,” Dave says, because the moment he’s found himself in is tender and precious and he doesn’t want it to end just yet. Reality can wait a little longer; Dave will cling to this kind not-dream for as long as he’s allowed to.

Klaus relents quickly, looking almost relieved for the excuse. "Do you remember what happened?"

"Um," says Dave, attempting to organise his thoughts into something resembling a timeline of events. Everything is muddy and confusing. "I hit my head. In the shower? And- my arm, I think I broke my arm." He squints down and is unsurprised to find his arm in a cast.

Nodding, Klaus says, "Yeah, it wasn't a pretty sight."

"Oh crap," Dave blurts, "you found me."

"Sure did," Klaus confirms with a grin. "I found _all_ of you."

Dave flushes. He's not particularly shy about his body, but the idea of Klaus seeing him naked is… a lot. 

"Don't worry," Klaus says flippantly, "I was a bit too busy with all the blood to be checking out what you're packing, if you get my drift."

"Right," Dave says. "Sorry."

Klaus blinks. "Are you apologising for almost dying?"

"Well," reasons Dave, "I could have at least almost died in more convenient circumstances."

Looking faintly stunned, Klaus says, "Right. Sure. Okay.” He shakes his head, like a dog shaking off water. “I mean, personally, I think the circumstances were, like… the only positive of the situation, but alright.”

Voice choked, Dave says, “Oh. Okay, then.”

There’s something almost shy about the way Klaus smiles at him.

“Yeah, and I’m also right here,” Ben interjects, “y’know, if you’ve forgotten.”

Dave clears his throat. “Yup. Sorry. Hi.”

Klaus peers around. “Ben here?”

“Yep,” confirms Dave.

“I, uh,” Klaus says, “I gave you the powers back. I hope that’s okay.”

“Yeah, of course, no worries,” Dave says reflexively, even though… he can’t believe that he finally got shot of these powers, finally got to _touch Klaus,_ and he’d been unconscious for the whole thing. 

“In all fairness,” says Klaus, a touch defensive, “I wasn’t going to, since I figured you need to rest, and this place isn’t exactly restful _,_ but then I realised - or, okay, _Ben_ realised - you might need them. If you’re right about the, um, immortality thing?”

“Oh,” says Dave. He isn’t sure how to say that he wouldn’t have blamed Klaus anyway, and he’s frightened that the words might sound like a lie.

Ben says, “You were.”

“What?”

“Right, I mean, about the immortality aspect. You died.”

He swallows. “Oh. I…”

“Twice, actually,” Ben says, grimacing. 

“Shit,” Dave breathes.

“What is it?” Klaus questions. “Is Ben being an asshole?”

Laughing weakly, Dave says, “No. No, he just… I died, apparently. Twice.”

Klaus looks away, but his voice is cheerful. “Only twice? You’re still way behind me.”

Dave stops laughing. “Fuck.”

“Ah, they were _really good deaths,_ though,” Klaus waves him away, as if the statement is comforting in any way.

"That's worse. You get that that's worse, right?"

Putting a hand to his chest, Klaus asks, "Did you want me to have bad deaths? Is that what you're saying?"

"How about I want you to stop dying all together," Dave says, tone light, despite the way his heart clenches with how sincerely he means it.

"You first," counters Klaus.

"How about," Ben says measuredly, "you both stop dying in front of me?"

Wincing, Dave says, "Yeah, my bad. That probably wasn't much fun for you."

“Oh, not much fun? Is that what you think?” Ben says, acerbic.

Dave purses his lips. “I mean, in my defence, it wasn’t much fun for me either?”

“Is Ben bullying you?” Klaus asks, bringing his fists up in an imitation of old fashioned fistycuffs.

He laughs, and then winces when his head thumps sorely.

Ben sighs. “You need to press the button for the nurse,” he says, “even if it does interrupt your flirting.”

To Klaus, Dave says, “He is bullying me, actually.”

“Bullying an invalid?” gasps Klaus. “How very rude of him.”

Ben sticks up a middle finger at Klaus, which of course he doesn’t see, whilst Dave reaches for the nurse button, only to wince when he realises that it’s on the side of the arm which is still very much broken. Dave sucks in a breath, and it must have been louder than he realised - it really is _very loud in here -_ because Klaus startles slightly. “Are you okay? What is it?” he asks, hands fluttering nervously.

“Sorry,” Dave breathes. “Could you hit the nurse button for me?”

“Of course,” Klaus says quickly, pressing the button. “I was supposed to press it as soon as you woke up, but then you went and distracted me.”

“Oh, so it’s my fault?” says Dave, quirking a grin.

Klaus’ mouth screws up in an almost smile. “Well, I’m sure not taking any responsibility.”

Any further teasing (not flirting, of course, no matter what Ben says) is interrupted then by a nurse entering, stopping still when she sees Dave is awake. Apparently, that hadn’t been guaranteed, Dave waking up; he had been brought in with suspected severe brain trauma, his skull cracked in a way that doesn’t usually have a good prognosis. Dave had lost a lot of blood, and his arm was in a bad way, too, but it was the brain injury they had been most worried about, so imagine their surprise when the CT didn’t show a hint of hemorrhaging or swelling. The nurse says they must have misdiagnosed him in the ambulance. The look Ben gives him makes Dave doubt that.

Whilst the nurse walks Dave through some simple recall tests, just to double check that there was no lasting damage, Klaus watches with uncharacteristic quiet. It isn’t until the nurse asks Dave’s pain score that he interrupts.

“Eight?” Klaus echoes, aghast. “You said you felt okay!”

“And I do feel okay,” says Dave, “y’know, relatively speaking.”

Klaus shakes his head. “You’re worse than Diego. You realise that you’re allowed pain medication, right?”

“Actually,” the nurse interjects apologetically, “we can’t give you anything except tylenol until we’re confident that there’s no brain injury. Anything stronger could mask the symptoms.”

_“Boo.”_

“That’s fine,” says Dave, loud enough to talk over Klaus. “Tylenol will be fine.”

In the end, they keep Dave in the hospital for a few more hours, which is how long it takes for Dave to convince them that he doesn’t have a sneaky brain injury that somehow escaped notice by the CT machine. He’s discharged by a slightly mystified doctor, who warns him to come straight back at the slightest change in symptoms. He’s given an appointment to get his cast off, a recommendation for a physical therapist after he’s had it taken off, and some prescription painkillers which he has no real intention of taking. They bring a bunch of paperwork to fill out, too, asking for details of his insurance provider - and man, he’s lucky that he’s still employed by the VA, because he would not be able to afford this otherwise.

As they’re being checked out, they run into a familiar face.

“Evelyn!” calls Klaus, waving an enthusiastic hand.

The nurse turns on her heel, taking in the scene. “Well, look at that. For once, Klaus isn’t the one in mortal peril.”

Dave flushes.

To Klaus, she adds, “You’re looking unexpectedly well.”

“Would you believe me if I said I got sober?” Klaus questions, his tone suggesting he already knows the answer.

Evelyn looks at him for a beat. “Yes,” she says decisively, “I think I would.”

“Oh,” says Klaus, thrown.

“Well, it’s nice to see you boys again,” she says, “but I’d better get going - you’re not the only idiots in need of medical attention.”

“Oh, sure,” Dave says, “hopefully I won’t be seeing you again so soon.”

“I won’t count on it,” drawls Evelyn, already starting back down the hall. “Klaus, you take good care of your boy, okay?”

“I’ll do my best,” Klaus vows cheerfully.

It’s only when they’re getting into the taxi that Dave thinks to question Klaus’ presence. They’re both sharing the back of a cab, with a handful of inches between them, and Klaus looks a little cagey, but far from the panic that he once possessed at the near proximity. Still, Dave can’t help but feel guilty for throwing him into this situation. “Hey, Klaus,” he says, “you know you don’t have to come back with me, right?”

Klaus blinks at him. “I know.”

“Oh,” says Dave, scratching at where the cast ended on his arm. “I just mean, I don’t want you to feel obliged.”

“Do you not want me here?” Klaus asks, tensing just slightly.

“No! I mean, yes, I do want you here, I just don’t want you here unless you want to be here.”

“Well, maybe I want to be here.”

Dave looks away, feeling all at once rather young and tongue tied. “Alright then.”

“Look,” says Klaus, taking a deep breath, “you’ve taken care of me plenty of times. How about you let me take care of you for a change?”

“I’m not very good at that,” Dave admits fretfully.

Klaus shrugs. “I’m not very good at taking care of people, so, y’know.”

“I’m not sure that’s true.”

“Well, it’s not like I’ve had a lot of practice,” says Klaus. “The only person who stuck around was Ben, and it’s pretty hard to be a caregiver to a ghost.”

Ben, who’s been eavesdropping from the passenger seat, sighs heavily.

“I’m not worried about that,” says Dave. “I just don’t want you to think you owe me anything.”

Laughingly, Klaus says, “I owe you a lot more than this.”

“Klaus,” Dave says, voice strained, “you’ve never taken anything from me that I wasn’t willing to give.”

At that, Klaus goes very still. 

“Christ,” says Ben, “you guys are so cheesy.”

_“Anyway_ ,” Dave says breezily, “no matter how bad you are at taking care of someone, you’re still doing a better job than Ben.”

“Oh, that’s because Ben’s an asshole,” says Klaus.

Dave grins. “He sure is.”

“Oh, I see,” says Ben, “you guys are gonna gang up on me now, huh? Y’know what, I’m out, I’ve got better things to do than listen to this.”

“See you at home!” Dave tells him just before Ben disappears.

(He pretends not to notice the small, fond smile that Klaus looks at him with when he says _home_.)


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> small disclaimer - i am not jewish, and whilst i am doing my best to do my research, please do let me know if anything is incorrect or offensive in any way, no matter how small
> 
> content warnings in end notes

"That's a lot of blood."

Klaus hums, pointedly not looking at the pool of congealed crimson on the bathroom floor. "That's what happens when you crack your head open," he says mildly.

"I know," says Dave, unable to look away from the evidence of his demise. "I just… it's different, when you see it. Like. I actually died, huh?"

"You sure did!" Klaus agrees with an inappropriate amount of cheer. "Anyway, aren't you supposed to be resting? Go sit down."

"I need to clean this up," protests Dave.

"I can do that," says Klaus. "Really, growing up in the academy gets you very comfortable with cleaning up blood and viscera. You should have seen Ben after missions." He says it without faltering, but something about his grin goes a little forced at the admission, and Dave can only try not to picture Ben, twelve years old and dripping with gore; he feels nauseous enough, without adding that to the mix.

Dave runs his free hand over his head, studiously avoiding the bruise that had recently been a skull fracture. "Are you sure? I really don't mind doing it."

"I'm sure," Klaus says, shooing him from the doorway. "This is one of the few things I'm actually good at."

"You're good at lots of things," Dave says vaguely, shuffling over to the couch. He feels weirdly tired, considering he had just spent several hours comatose. Perhaps literally. His head is throbbing steadily, and he knows it could have been much worse than a little headache, but he still ends up closing his eyes against the harsh glare of daylight. 

If nothing else, at least the apartment is quieter than the hospital had been. A little perspective is probably good for him. 

Giving into temptation, Dave curls onto his side, cushioning his head on his good arm. He knows he probably looks pitiful, but he honestly cannot bring himself to care. He just died. Twice. Doesn’t he deserve a little pity party?

“So, the good news,” Klaus calls out from the bathroom, “is that I got all the blood up. The bad news is, I don’t think this towel is salvaga- oh.” Sticking his head around the corner, Klaus has spotted Dave’s slumped form. “Are you... okay?”

If Dave had even a smidge more energy than he has, he would probably be feeling horrifically embarrassed right now, but instead, he just mumbles, “I’m tired.”

Klaus, looking fairly discomforted, says, “In an _I need a nap_ way, or in an _I’m dying_ way.”

Dredging up the energy to smile, Dave says, “Just the nap, I think.” 

“Oh, okay,” says Klaus. “Should I- do you want me to, uh…”

"Don't go," says Dave, voice smaller than usual. "I mean, not if you don't want to."

A slow smile rises on his face. "Okay. I'll be here."

With belated worry, Dave adds, "You can make yourself at home. There food in the fridge, or you could take a bath, or-"

"Dave," Klaus interrupts gently, "I'll be fine. Go to sleep."

He lets out a breath. "Okay," he says, melting into the cushions. Dave can’t imagine going to sleep now, with Klaus watching him, thinks he’ll lie here overthinking for hours before he gets any rest, but sleep comes for him quickly and without fuss.

The phone is ringing.

Dave groans, rolling over, prepared to let it ring out. He can take a guess who it is, and he’s really not in the mood right now.

And then he remembers. Klaus.

“Shit,” he blurts, wrenching upright, only for his head to pulse with fiery pain in revenge. “Don’t answer that.”

Frozen, Klaus blinks at him guiltily, arm halfway extended towards the phone. “What?”

“Sorry,” apologises Dave, “just- don’t answer.”

Klaus steps back from the phone, but watches it ringing with a narrowed gaze. “How come you’re ignoring it? What is it, debt collectors? Annoying ex?”

“My parents,” Dave says abashedly. 

“Ah,” says Klaus with a knowing nod. “Asshole parents, huh? I know all about that.”

“No,” denies Dave, “not assholes, not at all.”

With a challenging glint in his eye, Klaus asks, “Then why are you ignoring them?”

Dave lies, “I’m not. I just- don’t want to deal with them right now.”

Klaus makes a disbelieving noise, dropping down into the armchair and crossing his legs, like he’s playing at being a psychologist. The phone cuts off mid ring, leaving them in a sudden silence.

It’s obvious that Klaus isn’t going to let this go - and he’s a stubborn thing, when he wants to be - so Dave resigns himself to talking. “Last week was, uh, Yom Kippur. It’s a Jewish holiday?” Dave explains, trying not to feel awkward, despite how mentioning he’s Jewish has so often turned awkward in the past. Klaus, to his credit, looks unfazed, if perhaps a little bemused by the direction the conversation has taken. “It’s about, like, atonement, and we all used to go to the synagogue together. Anyway. My parents always try to phone me a bunch after.”

“To repent?” Klaus questions, head cocked.

He laughs. “No, no, I think folks at the synagogue ask after me, and then they feel like we gotta catch up or something.”

“Then how come you don’t want to answer?”

Shifting in his seat, Dave says, “I don’t know. We’re just not close, I guess.”

“Mm,” hums Klaus, watching him closely. “You don’t want to let them know you were in the hospital? I thought normal families do that sort of thing.”

Dave hesitates. If this was any other day, he would probably challenge Klaus right back, point out that _normal families_ are an ideal and not a reality, but today he’s tired and in pain and he doesn’t want to put up a front, so he just says, “I’d rather not. They’d just worry for no reason.”

“You almost dying isn’t a reason?” Klaus asks, just a touch too knowing.

“Nah. I’ve got you to nurse me better,” he says with a crooked smile.

Klaus grins, angling his face away. “Ah, of course, that’s not worrying at all.”

He laughs, then winces when the motion jostles his broken arm. 

Sobering, Klaus says, “Shit, I forgot - do you need those painkillers?”

“Oh, I- no, thanks,” Dave says delicately. 

“You sure about that?” Klaus questions, quirking an eyebrow.

“The noise is kinda worse when I remember what quiet sounds like,” says Dave, running a hand through his curls.

Klaus bites his lip, nodding. 

"Sorry," Dave says, grimacing, "I'm not trying to guilt trip you or anything."

Waving off his remorse, Klaus says, "Don't worry about it. How about some Tylenol instead?"

In the end, Klaus grabs him the Tylenol from his medicine cabinet, and then the pair order some pizza in, because Dave doesn't feel up to cooking and Klaus confesses he's a fire hazard in the kitchen. Klaus flicks through his record collection and lands on Nina Simone, grinning widely as the first notes of _I Put A Spell On You_ play, quietly enough that it doesn't aggravate Dave's headache. As he comes back over, Klaus does a little shimmy with his hips, a dorky approximation of dancing, and Dave laughs, helplessly charmed. 

They eat, and they talk. It’s strange how easy Klaus is to talk to. Usually, Dave gets awkward when he’s around cute guys - and Klaus is, undeniably, very cute - but talking to Klaus is easy as breathing. He feels like he’s known him forever, known him longer than he’s known himself. The conversation flows with ease, and Dave’s face aches from how much he’s been laughing. Not polite laughter, either, but full on belly laughs. He can’t remember the last time he laughed quite this much. This might be the longest Klaus has stayed, other than way back when he had come around to get sober and sleep the night, and every minute they have together makes Dave pray for another. 

As the night draws closer, Klaus makes use of the shower, and Dave pulls out some warm pyjamas for him to borrow. It's so painfully domestic, Dave can almost imagine that this is his life, him and Klaus, sharing their time together. After Klaus is done, he helps secure a plastic bag over Dave's cast, and Dave takes a very shallow, careful bath; he doesn't quite trust himself in the shower yet. 

They can't watch any TV - the doctor had warned Dave to avoid it for a few days - so they put on another album, and nurse mugs of hot chocolate. Klaus laces his with something from a flask. Dave doesn't comment, just makes note that he should probably buy in some more vodka, if Klaus is planning on staying for long. Dave hopes he is.

"Hey, Dave," Klaus says suddenly, voice casual enough to seem suspect.

"Yeah?"

Klaus takes a large gulp from his mug. "So, uh, about your accident. How much do you remember?"

"Oh. Uh…" Dave hesitates. It's hard to be sure what he does remember, and what's just dream and confusion. "Some of it. Why?"

Staring down at his drink, Klaus says, "So you don't remember how you did it?"

Perplexed, Dave asks, "Did what? My injury?"

He looks up at Dave, then, eyes a little wide. "Ben told me you were hurt."

"What?"

"Ben found me, and I could see him, and he told me that you were hurt," Klaus repeats carefully.

Dave swallows. "Oh. I- I didn’t know I could do that."

Klaus smiles, but there's something heavy in his expression, something like disappointment. "No, that's okay, I figured you probably wouldn't remember."

"I can try again? Ben isn't here, but I could summon him, see if I can figure it out?" Dave offers.

He opens his mouth, only to close it again, a pained look crossing his face. “I hate to be the sensible one here,” Klaus says, “but when the doctor said resting, I don’t think summoning spirits was what he had in mind.”

“Ah, fair point,” says Dave. “Thanks, Nurse Klaus.”

At that, Klaus winks, and Dave wonders if it’s healthy for his heart to beat this fast. 

Eventually, Dave finds himself getting sleepy again, and Klaus shepherds him into the bedroom. Dave offers to take the couch, but Klaus is determined, although he does accept a spare pillow and blanket, so Dave thinks he means to stay the night. He hopes Klaus will still be here, come morning.

Despite the persistent ache in his head, and the low level pain in his arm, Dave lays in bed, happier than he’s felt in a while. He feels warm. Content. 

Except for one thought:

If Dave can make Ben visible - if he can drag him onto this plain of existence - then Klaus won’t have any reason to take these powers back.

It’s not a kind thought, and Dave scolds himself for thinking it, tries to dismiss it, but it lingers like a bad taste. Fear is hard to let go of, and Dave is, as much as he pretends otherwise, afraid. Afraid of the ghosts. Afraid of his powers. But most of all, afraid that things will never get any easier than this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> discussion around child abuse/bad parents, blood, addiction


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm back with another chapter! i've been busy with commissions, but now i'm done with the christmas rush, the next chapter shouldn't be such a long wait
> 
> content warnings in the end notes

Every day, Dave wakes up expecting Klaus to be gone, and every day, he's proved wrong. It's been a couple of weeks since the hospital, and Klaus has barely left his side through it all. For all he had warned Dave that he's not a good nurse, he's been helping him with all the things Dave's bulky cast made difficult; everything from washing the dishes to tying Dave's shoe laces. Klaus leaves sometimes in the night, never explaining where he's going or what he's doing, but he's never gone long, always returned by morning, sometimes wearing new clothes, often with a bottle of alcohol in hand. Dave would like to believe it’s all for him, Klaus returning, but he’s not that egotistical. He suspects Klaus has gotten a little tired of living day to day, never knowing if he’ll have a bed for the night, and is taking advantage of Dave’s obvious infatuation to have a stable living situation for a while. Not that Dave blames him. It must be hard, living the way Klaus does, particularly now that he’s sober enough to care about his own safety a little more.

The VA soundly insisted that Dave take some time off work to recover - his boss knows him a little too well to take _I'm fine_ at face value - so the past two weeks has been like a strange bubble, separate from his normal life. A vacation, almost. His friend from work, Leanne, had dropped by with several tupperwares full of food, but Dave had practically shoved her back out the door when she caught sight of Klaus and waggled her eyebrows suggestively, cackling at Dave's mortified expression. "Here I was, worried about you,” she said laughingly, “when you had this cute thing at home to help you wash your hair!” Dave had slammed the door shut with a panicked _thanks for the food!_ Klaus, of course, had been delighted by the whole thing.

All in all, Dave has been having one of the best fortnights of his life. He isn't sure if that signifies how much he likes Klaus, or just how pitiful his life has been thus far.

Dave's been avoiding answering his phone still (he will call his parents soon, just, not yet, not whilst his broken arm still gives them an excuse to visit), so it's not all that surprising that Diego eventually shows up at his door.

However, it's clear that Diego wasn't expecting Klaus to be answering the knock; he takes an automatic step back, eyes blowing wide. "Klaus," he says.

Ben comments, "Oh, this should be good."

"Hey, brother. Long time, no see," Klaus responds pointedly, waving him inside, but Diego hesitates at the doorway, eyes searching out Dave where he's curled up on the sofa. 

"I'll come back later," Diego says, leaving the ‘ _when Klaus is gone’_ unsaid.

Dave states, "Klaus is staying with me for a bit."

"Oh," murmurs Diego, eyes flitting between them, assessing the situation. "Well. You weren't answering your phone, so I was just checking up you haven't been, uh, murdered or whatever."

"Thanks," Dave says, a little flustered. He hadn't really considered that anyone could be worried about him, let alone Diego of all people. "I'm okay."

"Well, depends on your definition of okay," inserts Klaus, flopping down next to him on the couch, close, but carefully not touching. "What with the dying and all."

Diego's eyebrows draw low, and his eyes snag on the cast that Dave is sporting. "What?"

"Nothing!" Dave says quickly.

Unconvinced, Diego asks, "Did you die?"

Dave falters. "Maybe a little bit?"

Running his hand over his face, Diego mutters, "Christ, now there's two of you."

"It's not Dave's fault," Klaus says, uncharacteristically defensive. "It's not like he overdosed or anything."

If they were alone, Dave would probably point out that Klaus isn't to blame for his own deaths either, but he doubts Klaus would appreciate it in front of Diego, who's clearly not forgiven for the fight they had after Vanya's book was published. Instead, he says, "Anyway, I'm fine. No need to worry."

"Right," says Diego, rocking back on his heels. "Uh. Is Ben here?"

" _Exqueeze me?"_

Dave helpfully says, “Yep, he’s right there.”

Ben, invisible, waves.

Klaus, face struck with blank outrage, questions, “Are you telling me that I can try to talk to you about Ben for seven fucking years, and _nothing_ , but then this guy - who you only met a few months ago - tells you, and _he’s_ a reputable source? Seriously?”

"Well," says Diego, going stiff at the acerbic tone, "addicts aren't known for their honesty."

"Hey," Dave says sharply.

Diego groans. He pinches the bridge of his nose, not looking at anyone. "Okay, okay, I didn't mean that."

“Sure,” says Klaus, voice flat as a blade. 

“No, really,” grits out Diego, “that wasn’t fair. And- neither was…”

“Yes?” Klaus says leadingly, with a cold smile that says he’s not really expecting it to go anywhere.

“I’m _sorry._ About not believing you. I’m sorry. Okay? _”_

Dave blinks. He’s pretty sure the expression on his face matches the look of naked astonishment that is on Klaus and Ben’s. Apologising to Dave was one thing - they didn’t have a history, a childhood of small grudges and minor grievances - but apologising to Klaus? The person who he’s stubbornly disbelieved for years? That was something else altogether. Perhaps Dave has been underestimating Diego.

“But I’m not the only one at fault here,” Diego adds.

Or maybe Dave estimated him entirely accurately.

Klaus rolls his eyes, but something about it is a little lackluster. “Victim blaming much?”

“I’m serious,” says Diego. “I can admit I was an asshole about it, and I’m sorry for that, but you didn’t make it easy to believe you!”

“You never would have believed me anyway,” mutters Klaus.

“Maybe! But you could have at least given me a chance to decide for myself, rather than- rather than sabotaging it for me!”

“I didn’t _sabotage_ you.”

Diego shakes his head. “Right, right. So walking in drunk as hell and telling me that _Ben_ made you piss in dad’s gas tank, that was your way of telling me, _good news, Ben’s here?”_

Dave stifled a laugh. He could see it all too well; a teenaged Klaus, sly and stumbling in equal measures; a young Ben, pretending to be above it all, but unable to stop himself from egging Klaus on.

“Actually, _yeah,_ it kind of was,” Klaus says. “I swear, as soon as Ben died, you all immediately forgot what an utter _asshole_ he is!”

“ _Klaus-”_ Diego starts, but Klaus barely stops for breath.

“Seriously! You act like he’s a total saint, like he was the innocent one, the good one, but he’s- he’s a dick! He’s rude, and snarky, and smart, and an idiot, and he loves his siblings but he also can’t stand us! _That’s_ Ben,” Klaus rants, impassioned, hands flying wild.

Ben makes a strangled noise. For a short, panicked moment, Dave thinks he might be _crying -_ but nope, he’s just choking on his own laughter, eyes scrunched up in glee.

“Well- I-” fumbles Diego, unable to deny it but also not ready to accept it. “Still, would it kill you to have been a _little_ more sensitive about our recently deceased brother?”

Klaus sags down into the couch cushions, his earlier passion dissolving as quickly as it came. “Yeah, I guess,” he says indistinctly. “I suppose the whole dying thing doesn’t mean as much to me as it does to most people.”

Diego asks, “What does that mean?”

“It’s kind of easy to forget that death is a permanent loss for most people,” muses Klaus, his head flopping back until he’s staring up at the ceiling. “I mean, up until recently, I spent more time with my dead brother than any of my living ones.”

“But up until recently, you were constantly high,” Diego says, puzzled.

With a nostalgic sigh, Klaus says, “Yeah, I was.”

When it seems he isn’t about to elaborate, Dave adds, “Ben really isn’t affected by that the same way the other ghosts are. It’s…” He trails off, trying to articulate the abstract, intrinsic perception that Dave acquired when Klaus gave him this curse. “I think Ben’s soul is - it’s tethered to these powers. The other ghosts, they’re… tangential. I can feel them, but they’re disconnected. Ben’s different.”

The ghost in question watches him. They’ve never talked about it, not directly, but the look on Ben’s face isn’t surprised at this explanation; Dave wonders if he feels it too. 

“Okay,” Diego says, arms folded, “how was I supposed to know any of that?”

Klaus suggests, “You could have just asked.”

It seems Diego doesn’t have a defense for that, so Dave says, “To be fair, it's not as if you guys were taught what _healthy communication_ looks like.”

Sticking up his index finger, Klaus declares, “This is true.”

“Right,” says Diego. “Well.” He shuffles a step back, like he's thinking of making an escape.

"Do you want to sit down? I can make some coffee-"

"Or I can make the coffee," Klaus interrupts genially, "and you can sit there and look pretty."

Dave flushes, clears his throat. "That's- yeah, sure. Okay."

"Um," says Diego, looking vaguely discomfited. He looks between the two of them, settled on the sofa, as if he’s trying to work something out. "I don't wanna… intrude."

Klaus notes, “Bit late for that.”

“No, you’re not intruding. Right, Klaus?”

“No,” Klaus amends, reluctant and unconvincing.

Diego takes a seat in the armchair, and pulls a knife out of nowhere to spin between his fingers. "Fine," he says, as if forced into it.

Looking vaguely unsteady, Klaus leavers himself off of the couch and into the kitchen, clattering around as he takes mugs out of the cupboard. There are only two nice ones, so he also pulls out the weirdly huge mug that never gets used, with the football team logo that Dave doesn’t even support. Klaus starts the coffee machine and hums a tune under his breath, hopping up onto the counter whilst he waits. It’s an indisputably domestic scene, and Dave can feel his cheeks going warm at the sight.

Voice low, Diego says, “Thanks.”

“What for?” questions Dave, unable to hide his surprise.

“Letting him stay,” says Diego.

Despite the risk of revealing his metaphorical cards, Dave explains, “It wasn’t exactly a hardship. It’s been- nice.”

A smirk growing on his face, Diego says, “Uh-huh.”

“I mean. It’s nice to have company. Not that Ben isn’t company!”

Ben advises, “You’re just digging the hole deeper.”

Dave snaps his mouth shut.

Klaus fortunately doesn’t seem to notice the lingering embarrassment on Dave’s face, too busy balancing the three mugs in a precarious grip. He manages to get them to the coffee table, although some of the coffee sloshes over the side with the rough landing. Still, he looks inordinately pleased with himself, so Dave resigns himself to mop up the spill when Klaus isn’t looking. The mug that Klaus passes him contains a black coffee. It’s the first time Klaus has forgotten to add creamer, but Dave doesn’t mind it without, and he got the good mug without the chip in it, so he’ll call it a win. Diego ended up with the disproportionately large one, and it makes him look strangely small in comparison. Dave wisely keeps this observation to himself.

“So, um, you said Ben is here?” Diego says leadingly. “Can I- see him?”

Klaus, a beat too late, says, “Wait, hold on, what?”

“You remember how you were wondering why Diego believed me?” says Dave, “Well, it turns out I can sort of prove it.”

“Is this like that time when you were dying and I saw Ben?” Klaus questions, voice casual, despite the implications.

Diego looks like he wants to follow up on it, so Dave quickly says, “No, this is something else. I can sort of share my - your - powers.”

With a slow blink, Klaus echoes, “Share. My powers.”

Nodding, Dave explains, “If I touch someone, I can push the power halfway across. That way we can both see Ben, although it’s… weaker, that way. I can’t hear the… y’know, the rest of them.”

“The rest of them?” Diego prompts.

Klaus nods gravely. “ _Beyond the veil._ That’s what dad used to call it. He thought it was like, a glimpse into the other side, all the ghosts that I could manifest if I only _tried harder and stopped being so useless!”_ He finishes his explanation with a sharp English accent, which can only be an imitation of the infamous Reginald Hargreeves. 

“It’s like this muffled, loud sort of noise,” Dave adds. “Like listening to a football stadium screaming, but you’re underwater.”

“Right,” draws Diego. It’s clear he isn’t understanding the gravity of the statement, isn’t comprehending how torturous that constant hum of noise can be, but Dave isn’t willing to keep talking about it; if he has the choice, he will always choose to pretend it isn’t there. “So. Ben?”

The spirit in question leans over the back of the couch, face set in deliberation. “As much as I’d like to talk to these assholes, it’s probably not a good idea.”

“Why not?” 

“Last time, you ended up shaking and exhausted,” Ben says flatly. “And that was before you were recently deceased.”

“I’m fine,” Dave blusters. “I feel fine, I can do it.”

Folding his arms, Ben says, tone firm and scolding, “Absolutely not.”

Dave wonders if this is what Klaus had to listen to, all those times he decided to get high, and if so, how he managed to keep from folding under Ben’s expert glare.

“What’s he saying?” Diego questions eagerly.

“He doesn’t think I should be straining myself,” grumbles Dave. “I feel okay, though, I think I can do it.”

“Nuh-uh,” Klaus says, wagging his finger. “You heard what the doctor said. You’re supposed to be taking it easy.”

“That was ages ago,” Dave protests weakly, earning an unimpressed look from both Klaus and Ben.

Diego looks put out, but says, “I guess we can do it another time.”

Ben smiles at his brother’s blatant disappointment. “Tell him I’ll be looking forward to it.”

After passing on the message, Diego visibly brightens. “Cool. Alright. Cool.”

Dave smiles into his mug, and hides it with a sip. It’s bitter, without the creamer, but he doesn’t let himself wrinkle his nose, not with Klaus looking so relaxed on the couch next to him.

He half expects Diego to bail now that Ben is off the table, but to his pleasant surprise, he stays to finish his coffee, engaging in small talk with a reluctant air. He catches up with Klaus a little, and prods at him until Klaus spills the story of how Dave ended up with his arm in a cast, much to Dave’s chagrin. Diego even volunteers some information about himself; apparently, the gym is starting some classes, and Al’s offered him a spot teaching self defence. He glares at them as he explains, as if waiting for someone to mock him. Dave congratulates him, and consciously holds back from elbowing Klaus when he coos over Diego teaching classes, although he’s pretty sure it’s Klaus’ way of expressing his happiness for Diego.

And all the while, the space between Klaus and Dave narrows.

It's been happening more and more recently. As much as they're both careful not to touch, the gap between them has been shrinking, inch by inch. Often, during slow evenings on the sofa, Dave has observed the way they seem to shift, unconsciously, until Klaus is so close that a stray gesture might skim past him, an errant elbow away from accidentally transferring these powers. Dave wonders if it's a show of trust, on Klaus' part, an acceptance that Dave won't break their truce. Or maybe Klaus is unaware of it. Maybe it's no more intentional than the orbit of planets, the moon around the earth around the sun. Maybe Dave is helplessly dragged into proximity by the sheer force of gravity. 

It reminds Dave of an article he read once, about moths and artificial lights, and the reason they so often careen into them. They don't hit the light on purpose. It’s a problem of navigation; moths use the moon’s light as a compass, keeping a constant angle to it, but the artificial light source is so much brighter that they end up latching onto this, spiraling around it until they eventually collide. Dave can relate. He’s just as helpless to the light as those moths, unable to look away, circling closer and closer to the supernova of brightness that is Klaus.

Diego interrupts this train of thought, placing down his empty mug with a sense of finality. “Well,” he says, “I’d better head back. My next class starts soon.”

“Aw, okay,” says Klaus, tilting as if he’s about to drop his head onto Dave’s shoulder, only to think better of it at the last moment.

“Don’t be a stranger,” says Dave.

“I’ll be around,” agrees Diego. “I hope you get better soon. Partly because I wanna see Ben, but still.”

Dryly, Dave says, “Thanks.”

“Tell him I said bye,” instructs Ben.

Dave relays the goodbye, and Diego’s expression softens. “Bye, Ben,” he murmurs as he slips out the door.

Into the silence left behind, Klaus says, a little too loud, “I can’t believe he actually apologised to me. _Diego._ Apologising to _me._ Something weird is going on. Maybe he’s dying. Maybe _I’m_ dying.”

“You’re not dying,” says Dave. “I think he’s just, y’know, trying to do better.”

“You make that sound very reasonable,” Klaus notes pleasantly, “and not totally insane.”

“People can change.”

Klaus looks at him, eyes bright, expression unreadable. “Are you sure about that?”

Dave swallows. The air feels heavy all of a sudden. “Ben?”

“Yeah?”

“Would you mind giving us a minute?”

Ben folds his arms. “Please don’t tell me you’re gonna kiss him.”

 _“No,”_ hisses Dave. “Would you leave?”

“Would you stop being so obvious?” Ben counters, before slipping out (through) the door, not noticing Dave very maturely sticking out his tongue at him.

Klaus clears his throat pointedly.

“Um,” says Dave. “So.”

“Yes,” says Klaus, eyes wide, a look that might have been nervous, if it wasn’t for the way he was almost melting into the couch cushions, limbs slack and comfortable.

All of his words have dried up suddenly. In the face of Klaus’ attentive gaze, he finds himself scrambling for the right words, the ones that won’t hurt. “I- I noticed, um…” He trails off, unsure whether he should have even brought this up.

“What is it?” Klaus prompts, half smirking, as if considering whether he should tease Dave for his spontaneous inability to speak. 

Dave swallows again, mouth dry, lungs tight. “I need to ask you something,” he forces out.

Klaus nods, wriggling around on the spot so that he’s angled towards Dave.

Voice gentle, Dave says, “I need to ask you - and no matter what your answer is, I promise I won’t be mad at you - but I need to know… Klaus, did you take something?”

His easy, open expression shatters, and Klaus reels back. “What? I- no, of course not.”

“Okay,” says Dave, but it comes out awkward and disbelieving.

“Why would you even- Why would you even ask me that?” Klaus questions, words tripping over themselves in his haste. “You know I’m not doing that anymore. I haven’t even had anything to drink today!”

Fingers tangling together nervously, Dave blurts, “Your pupils are… they’re pretty constricted. And, uh, you’re a little unsteady on your feet. Your movements are slow, and you forgot to add cream to my coffee - which is fine, I mean, it’s just unusual?”

Klaus’ eyes narrow, heavy brows tugging down. “Have you been _watching me?_ Compiling _evidence?”_

Dave can’t say, _I’m always watching you, I can’t help it, I can’t stop watching you,_ so he just says, “I’m worried, that’s all. Plus… the doctor prescribed me painkillers, remember? But I haven’t actually seen them since we got back.”

“Oh, so now you’re accusing me of stealing from you, too.”

“No! No, this isn’t an accusation,” denies Dave.

“Well,” Klaus says, “it sure sounds like one.”

Running a hand through his hair, Dave attempts to centre himself, taking in a slow breath and letting it out slower. “Sorry. I’m not trying to upset you, and I’m not mad at you. But if you did take something, then I want to help.”

Slowly, Klaus echoes, “Help?” His bright eyes flit across Dave’s face, as if searching him for a trace of dishonesty, and Dave is forcibly reminded that, as much as Klaus might trust him enough to share space with him, he still doesn’t truly, completely, trust him. How could he? It’s become obvious that Klaus has been hurt, over and over, and his trust has been betrayed at every turn. It’s unfair of Dave, to expect Klaus to take that risk on him, on them. It takes time. Klaus had already been taking huge, daunting steps, but it’s a slow process, and not one that Dave can rush.

“I was thoughtless. I should have realised how much temptation it would be for you, having narcotics in the apartment,” Dave says softly. “If you want, we can get rid of them together. If you’ve been taking them this whole time, you might get a little withdrawal, especially if you were using opiates heavily before you got clean. If you do, then I’ll be here to help you through it.”

“Why?” Klaus looks at him, eyes intense, despite the slight glassiness that comes with drug use. “I broke my promise. I stole from you. Why?”

Dave smiles, but it’s a small, fragile thing. “Because you’re my friend, and I care about you.”

There’s a beat where Klaus just stares, like he’s waiting for the punchline. Then, “Right. Okay.” He stands, drifts over to where his jacket is hanging by the door, and fishes out a familiar pill bottle from the pocket. He looks down at it in his fist, expression stony. "What if you need them, though?" 

Shaking his head, Dave says, “I don’t need them. Do you?”

Klaus looks thrown at the earnest question. “I- I don’t know.”

“I’m not gonna tell you what to do,” Dave says, “but… before this, how long were you sober?”

“I wasn’t, remember? I was living on booze and weed.”

“No, I know,” Dave says, “but how long were you off the heavy stuff?”

Scratching at the back of his neck, Klaus mutters, “A few months, I guess.”

“A few months,” says Dave. “... How do you feel about doing the next few months, too?”

“Sounds terrible,” Klaus says. Smiles. “Will you help me flush them?”

“Of course.” Dave leaves a careful space as he follows Klaus into the bathroom, edging back against the wall as to not brush past him. He’s still close enough to see the way Klaus’ hands shake as he twists open the pill bottle. It still looks mostly full, Dave thinks with relief; Klaus can’t have been using for long.

Not looking away from the pills, Klaus murmurs, “If you want me to, uh, stay somewhere else after this, I’ll understand.”

Dave jolts, unable to stifle his surprise. “ _No._ I mean, not if you don’t want to," reassures Dave, heart beating a rapid tattoo in his chest.

Shrugging, Klaus says, “I guess I could stay a little longer.”

“Okay,” says Dave, fighting to keep his voice neutral.

Klaus nods to himself, and squeezes the little orange bottle. “Well. Here goes nothing.”

Then, with great reluctance, Klaus tips the bottle, until the innocuous little pills slide and fall, down, down, down. A small, involuntary noise escapes Klaus’ throat. It sounds painful.

“I’m proud of you,” Dave says softly.

Face grim, Klaus says, “I’m glad one of us is.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (cw: some negative talk about addiction, death mention, relapse/drug use)
> 
> for someone who takes prescription painkillers for chronic pain, you'd think i would have an easy time writing the side affects, but i realised i have no idea what it seems like from an outside perspective. 
> 
> also, the weirdly huge mug was going to be a sports direct mug, but i was unfortunately informed that The Sports Direct Mug Phenomenon isn't a thing in america :(
> 
> feel free to comment, or come yell at me on tumblr @cowboyklaus


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hope everyone who celebrates christmas had a good one, and here's to the new year - i hope 2021 is kind to you all
> 
> in other news, this fic is officially past 50k. how did that happen? thank you to everyone who's been commenting along the way, i would have given up several chapters ago if it weren't for you guys
> 
> content warnings in the end notes

Dave is getting his cast off next week. He tries not to count down the days, because then it just starts itching more, but at the same time, _he’s definitely counting the days_. It makes him feel kind of guilty; working in the VA, it’s not uncommon to be helping people missing a limb, and yet here he is, getting unreasonably annoyed about a cast. He knows it’s temporary, but being unable to use his right hand is a specific sort of helplessness that grates on his every nerve. Klaus has been great about it, helping out with stuff that the cast makes difficult, but he can’t do everything. 

Right now, Klaus is passed out on the couch. There’s a faint sheen of glitter in his hair, and he smells of sweat and weed, so Dave’s reasonably certain he was out last night, and got home late. For a few days after the painkiller incident, he’d been too miserable to leave the sofa, although whether the withdrawal was physical or psychological, it wasn’t clear. He's cradling a bottle of vodka in his sleep, but it looks mostly untouched; sometimes Klaus brings home mysteriously acquired bottles of alcohol, which he uses to supplement his coffee through the day. Meanwhile, Ben is in the bedroom, listening to an audiobook that Dave rented from the library for him. Dave is on his own, for now. Or, as alone as Dave ever is.

The morning has been a quiet one, spent pottering around the apartment, trying to do chores one handed, but it’s slow going. He can’t hoover, not without waking Klaus, and washing up is difficult without getting his cast wet. He’s dusted, and put on a load of laundry, and cleaned the fridge as best he can. Somehow, he still feels somewhat lazy. He’s not used to having someone to share the work with, and now, with Klaus doing the dishes and half the cooking (to mixed results) and the rest of it, he’s suddenly got a lot less to do. It’s… nice. Sharing the work. It’s nice. Just strange.

With nothing else to do, he walks down the stairs to his mailbox. He can't flick through them one handed, so he waits until he's at his kitchen table to sort all of the junk mail or of the pile. 

Opening letters one handed proves to be difficult.

“Morning.”

Dave startles, envelope between his teeth. With a slightly guilty air, he slowly removes the letter from his mouth, flushing. “Hi. Morning,” he says.

Klaus’ mouth twists in amusement. “Need some help?”

“No, no,” Dave says, “you just woke up. It can wait.”

“It’s fine,” Klaus replies, swinging his legs off the couch and standing. He arches, stretching out his back with a wince.

“You know you can take the bed, right? I don’t mind swapping,” offers Dave.

With a dismissive hand wave, Klaus says, “Don’t worry about it, it’s a good couch. Really, I’ve slept on many a couch in my years, and this is one of the best.”

Shooting him a dubious smile, Dave says, “Alright, if you’re sure.”

“I am,” he says as he drops into the chair opposite. “Now hand over the mail. Unless any of this is _sensitive information.”_

Dave cracks a grin. “No, go ahead.”

The first couple are bills, which Dave attempts to discreetly angle away from Klaus; the gas bill has gone up a little since Klaus has been here, and he doesn't want Klaus to worry about it. 

The next one, however, makes Dave wish he hadn’t accepted Klaus’ help.

“Oh my god, why didn’t you tell me it’s your _birthday?”_ Klaus questions.

“It’s _not,”_ Dave denies. “Not for a few days.” He makes an attempt for the card, but Klaus holds it out of reach, and Dave has to restrain himself from leaping over the table; although, if Klaus did end up accidentally gaining his powers over this, he would probably deserve it, wouldn’t he? 

With thinly veiled glee, Klaus folds open the card. “ _Dearest son,”_ he reads, with much more gusto than necessary. “M- oh, right-” He fumbles slightly, before picking up again with the same aplomb, _“Mazel tov! Have a great birthday. Give us a call, when you can, it’s been too long. All our love, mom and dad._ Aw! That’s _so cute!”_

“Are you done?” Dave deadpans. “Is it over?”

From thin air, Ben appears at the table, a grin on his face. “Are we bullying Dave?”

“No, we’re not bullying Dave!” yells Dave.

“Oh, is Ben here?” Klaus asks, all innocent and scheming. He waves the card in the air, showing off the front, a picture of a kitten wearing a birthday hat. “Benny, look at this adorable card Dave’s parents sent!”

Ben coos, “Well, look at that! And all we got from our parents is psychological trauma.”

“What did Ben say? I can tell it was funny, you’re doing that thing where you pretend you don’t want to laugh.”

Dave says pleasantly, “He’s just remarking on your abusive childhood.”

Klaus clicks his fingers. “Ah, that one never gets old.”

“Unlike Klaus,” Ben says with a devious grin. “He’s about to turn twenty-five.”

“Twenty-five isn’t _old,”_ Dave says, a touch too defensive.

With a commiserating air, Klaus says, “You too, huh?”

" _Oh,"_ says Ben. He says it with the sudden realisation of someone who has finally solved a mystery. "You're- _oh."_

"What?" Dave asks, anxiety stirring at Ben's suddenly serious expression.

Ben grimaces. "I just realised - it's obvious, in retrospect, I don't know why I didn't realise it before - you're like us."

"What does that mean?"

"What's going on?" Klaus adds, eyes flitting around the empty space that Ben inhabits.

Ben hums. “I don’t suppose you’re adopted?”

“Not to my knowledge?”

“Damn. That would have made this much less awkward.”

Klaus interjects, “Will someone explain what you’re talking about?”

“I don’t know,” Dave says, “Ben’s being vague.”

“Dave,” Ben says gently, “when’s your birthday?”

“October first,” he says, reflexive.

The expression on Ben’s face is somewhere between resigned and expectant. Klaus, for his part, sucks a breath through his teeth, wincing, and states, “Well, that- that explains some things, but also brings up a lot of questions?”

Tense, Dave asks, “Am I missing something?”

Klaus gives him a sympathetic look. “I’m also born on October first.”

“And I was _also_ born on October first. As was Diego. As was Allison, and Luther, and-”

“Wait,” says Dave, feeling on the verge of understanding something that he had been trying not to think about. A sense of vertigo passes over him, as if he is standing on a cliff edge of knowledge. 

“I’m guessing your parents never mentioned any of this,” Ben speculates, leaning back against the kitchen counter with his arms folded.

“No, they- What are you saying? That I’m-”

“A miracle baby?” suggests Klaus.

Dave has heard of the spontaneous pregnancy phenomenon. He had never thought he could be one of them, of course, but he has a basic understanding of the inexplicable event. Immaculate conception. That was what the newspapers had called it. An act of god, others had speculated. Or a curse, perhaps. Maybe even a natural, if unprecedented, pregnancy abnormality, a bizarre coincidence. Truthfully, no one knew why - or, if they did, they weren’t saying. Not much was for certain, but if there was one thing Dave could take away from this-

“My dad,” he says slowly, trying out the words. “He isn’t my dad, is he?”

Succinctly, Klaus says, “Yikes.”

Ben purses his lips in thought. “I mean, biologically? Probably not.”

“Right. Right,” says Dave, feeling vaguely dazed. The worst part is, _it makes sense._ His family had never been good at talking about things, but even Dave noticed the strange avoidance of the topic, particularly on his father’s part. Mom had always been a little twitchy, when talking about being pregnant with Dave. _It was such a surprise,_ she said. _The doctors didn’t think I would be able to get pregnant, but then here you were!_ Dave had taken his dad’s silence to be a sign of regret; presumably, the surprise of pregnancy hadn’t been the _happy_ kind of accident that his mom had always described it as. Now, though, with this added insight… It hadn’t been a surprise, so much as a complete and utter shock. An impossibility, made possible, but not one that his father had been involved with. 

Dave is the bastard son of a faithful wife. No wonder his dad has always been so awkward around him.

A cup of tea is placed down in front of him; Dave had failed to notice Klaus making it. He offers him a wobbly smile in thanks, and Klaus presses his lips together in an uncomfortable almost-smile. “You good?” he asks.

“Yeah,” Dave says roughly, because Klaus doesn’t look like he’s ready to handle a different answer. “Sorry. Just- Reframing some things.”

Ben offers, “At least we won’t forget each other’s birthdays, right?”

“Right,” says Dave. Then, “Wait-”

He feels the blood drain from his head as a terrible, terrible thought occurs to him.

“What?” asks Ben, alarmed.

“We’re not- I mean, we’re not-” He chokes on the word, because if he’s right, if they _are,_ then all this time he’s been looking at Klaus, thinking about Klaus, _fantasising about Klaus-_

“Oh, God,” says Klaus, eyes wide and revolted (revolted at Dave?). “No, wait, you don’t mean-”

In a desperate plea, Dave blurts out, “We’re not _related,_ are we?”

There’s a moment of grim silence as the question settles over them.

Then, Ben turns to him, face utterly devoid of panic, and says, “Okay, let me spell it out for you.” He steps over to where Klaus is sitting, and crouches so that their faces are level. “I want you to take a good look at the two of us, and ask that again.”

Dave flushes. “Oh. Right.”

“What? What did he say?” demands Klaus.

“He pointed out that we’re all, uh, racially diverse? So...”

“Ah,” says Klaus, sagging with relief. (He had probably been remembering the time he had drunkenly straddled Dave and offered repayment in the form of sexual favours - an event that Dave pointedly tries to forget.) “Thank god. I might be a kinky bastard, but that’s a big nope from me.”

Ben clears his throat loudly. “Anyway. Whatever caused all of us to be born the way we were, I think it’s safe to say we’re not biological brothers.”

“Well. Good,” Dave says. Ben doesn’t ask why, which is probably telling. 

  


* * *

  


Dave gets out of bed. Something is wrong, something subtly off. The shadows are long, reaching out, insidious and grasping for him, even after he turns on the lamp. It’s early - or late, depending on your perspective - and he isn’t sure what woke him up, until he hears loud, uneven footsteps outside his bedroom door. For a moment, he tries to convince himself it’s some random ghost, and that he should ignore it and go back to sleep, but something in his bones tells him not to do that, so he slides out from under the covers, dancing away from the dark corners of the room, like a child avoiding the cracks in the pavement. In the quiet, there’s no one to see his superstition. 

(There’s something not quite right about that, but Dave can’t put his finger on what.)

He steps up to the door, heart in his throat, vision narrowing down to his hand on the door handle, twisting it round and round and round until the door slides open, and he can see the dark figure waiting for him there. A shout catches in his throat, but he doesn’t make a noise.

The shadowy figure says, “Dave?”

Dave steps forward, and the light from behind him finally falls on the body in front of him. The distorted shape settles into a familiar one, and all at once, Dave realises how unnecessarily dramatic he’s been. _“Klaus.”_

Klaus blinks at him, owlish in the dim light. His curls are mussed and sweaty, and he’s wearing something that definitely isn’t warm enough, even in the mild, late September chill. “Dave,” he says again, a little blankly, as if he wasn’t expecting to see him. How much has he had to drink? He does seem to be swaying slightly, holding himself oddly, as if any moment he might topple over.

“Are you okay?” croaks Dave.

“I…” Klaus just looks at him, eyes huge enough to swallow him whole. “I wasn’t sure if you wanted me to come back, but I…”

“What?” questions Dave, startled. “Of course, you know you’re always welcome here.”

Klaus blinks at him. “Do I?”

Dave swallows. He feels like they might be, somehow, having two entirely different conversations. 

“I tried not to come back,” Klaus continues, unperturbed by the lack of response. “But then… It’s not always easy, is it?”

“What isn’t?” asks Dave. His mouth feels dry.

“Being safe,” he says vaguely. Dave isn’t sure how that’s an answer.

Scratching at the back of his neck, he suggests, “Do you think we should try to get some sleep? You look tired.”

Klaus echoes, “Sleep… Okay.” He starts forward into the bedroom.

“ _Woah.”_ Dave puts his hands up, not touching, just halting Klaus’ progress. “I didn’t mean- I mean, you can have the bed, if you want, and I can sleep on the couch, but I didn’t mean together.”

He blinks at him. Takes another step into the room, another step closer to Dave.

The shadows fall away, and all at once, Dave can see what he hadn’t before: the large, dark bloodstain across Klaus’ gut. 

“No,” says Dave. His voice is strangely calm. “No.”

“Dave,” Klaus says, and in the cold light of the bedroom, Dave notes the red staining his teeth. His knees shake, and Dave watches, as if in slow motion, as they fold underneath him, and he starts to drop, and Dave knows he can never, ever, ever touch him, but his hands are flying out to stop the fall, grabbing for his arms-

And his hands go-

Through-

From the floor, Klaus looks up at him, eyes huge and scared. The bloodstain is large, but it isn’t getting any bigger. Klaus stopped bleeding a while ago.

Klaus says, “Dave,” and Dave opens his mouth, and this time, nothing stops him from screaming, screaming, screaming-

“Dave!”

He wrenches upright, winded and shaking and- and what- how-

Klaus is there. 

Between snatches of breath, Dave asks, “Are you okay?”

At this, Klaus gives him a look of utter disbelief. “Am _I_ okay?”

“Are you-” Dave starts, faltering before the word _alive_ can escape. His free hand (the one not trapped in the cast) dances out, reflexive, to verify that he’s real, that this is real, but Klaus twitches back and then Dave remembers himself. “Sorry. Just…” His eyes rove over Klaus - he must have turned the light on as he came in, when he heard Dave- (shame rolls over him as he realises the screaming hadn’t just been in his dream; his throat feels raw and tender). There’s no hint of blood on him, but Dave is scared that if he blinks, it might come back.

“It’s all good,” says Klaus. “I grew up in a child soldier factory, so it’s kind of weird to me that some people _don’t_ have nightmares.”

“Right,” Dave says, voice hollow. “Just a nightmare.”

Klaus bites his lip, indecision clear on his face, before saying, “Move over.”

After a beat, Dave shuffles back so that there’s space on the bed for Klaus, and a little further so that they are definitely not touching. The sheets are probably sweat stained - Dave feels cold and sticky - but Klaus seems unbothered, sitting against the headboard with his long legs laying out in front of him. He doesn’t look in Dave’s direction, and his expression is hard to read. He swallows. “The first time I saw my dad after I left the academy, he was on TV, talking about some mission, and I freaked the fuck out. Had a panic attack, I guess? Like, hyperventilating, all that shit. After, I went and overdosed. That was the first time I got resuscitated,” Klaus says, voice measured and pleasant, like he’s talking about the weather. He scratches idly at his jaw, eyes cast down at where his toes are scrunched into the bedsheets. “I remember thinking, it was so fucking _dumb_. I mean, for seventeen years, I lived with him, ate dinner with him, stood there and took it when he yelled at me - I used to smile, just to rile him up a bit more.” A smile twists his mouth now, too, something rueful around the edges. “I was out, I was finally free from under him, and _that’s_ when I freak out?” He huffs, somewhere between a laugh and a sigh. 

Dave’s mouth is dry and cottony, and his voice is rough when he says, “That’s- It’s normal, y’know. After… trauma.” The word comes out quiet, hesitant. For once, Klaus is still and heavy, like gravity has finally claimed him, and Dave doesn’t want to startle the moment away. 

“I know,” Klaus says easily, apparently unbothered by the word. He looks at Dave, out of the corner of his eye, like he doesn’t want to scare Dave off either, like they’re both trying to preserve the fragile, bird bones of a moment. “I guess I’m just trying to say - I get it. Sometimes, you get reminded of that shit, and then it’s like it’s happening all over again.” His tone is soft and sympathetic, and Dave thinks he might be missing something.

“What do you mean?”

Klaus purses his lips, looking away again. “The card. From your parents.”

“Oh,” says Dave. “You- oh, no, sorry, I think you’ve got the wrong impression here.”

Brow crinkling, Klaus says, “So- your nightmare, it isn’t about-”

“My parents? No. My parents aren’t perfect, but they were never abusive,” Dave says, almost apologetically. He feels a bit of a fraud, an imposter; Klaus had opened up to him, thinking they shared the same scars, when in actual fact, Dave’s childhood had been a happy one, or, if not happy, a painfully average one.

“Huh. Right,” Klaus says, shoulders pulling up, just slightly. “Sorry, um- I shouldn’t have assumed. I mean, you’re a war vet, of course you’ve got other reasons to get nightmares-”

“It wasn’t that, either,” blurts Dave, unwilling to steal any more sympathy under false pretenses. 

He looks properly lost now.

There are too many words sitting on Dave's tongue, and he tries to swallow them down, afraid of what they might be, but they surge on like a tidal wave. "Klaus," he says, feeling desperate, although for what, he isn't sure. It might have something to do with the scant inches of space between them. His thoughts are a jumble, and the more he tries to straighten them out, the more the tangle tightens, knotting around his neck like a hangman's noose. "I- you know I-" 

Klaus watches him, patient, but a tad nervous, and all at once, Dave takes in how heavy he looks, eyes drooping with fatigue. It's the middle of the night, and by the looks of it, Klaus hasn't had the chance to sleep yet. The words dry up. Dave clears his throat. "Sorry, you're probably tired, it's really late-"

"No," says Klaus, quiet, as if he doesn't really want it to be heard. "What were you going to say?"

Dave closes his eyes, trying to gather himself; it's hard to think, when Klaus is looking at him like that. He thinks back on his nightmare. It's fading already, the details blurring, but he remembers blood, and the terror that Klaus was hurt, and the way Klaus wasn't sure if Dave would welcome him home. The air between them feels electrified. "I need you to know," Dave says, unsteady and fretful, "that you're always welcome here. If you ever need somewhere safe" - _someone safe_ , he doesn't say _-_ "to stay, there's always going to be a space for you here."

Something uncertain on his eyes, Klaus laughs; a reflex reaction to fear. "What are you saying? Is this you asking me to move in?"

"Yes," Dave says simply. "If you want, then yes."

Klaus laughs again, but it's harsher, almost derisive. "You don't mean that."

"Yes, I do," says Dave. He's never been more certain of anything in his life.

"You can't," Klaus argues.

"I can, and I do."

Shaking his head, Klaus says, "You're making a mistake." His hands are balled tight. 

Mildly, Dave counters, "I disagree."

"I'm a terrible housemate," Klaus tells him. "I sleep at weird hours, and use up all the hot water, and I'm annoying and loud and talk during movies."

"You've been staying here for almost two months," Dave points out.

"Yeah, I promised to help until you got your cast off," says Klaus. "This is supposed to be me doing _you_ a favour, not the other way around."

"Do you not want to stay?"

"I didn't say that."

Dave smiles. "Well, then. If you want to stay, and I want you to stay, then what's the problem?"

Klaus narrows his eyes, watching Dave, as if waiting for him to crack. "If you want me to stay," he says, as if the statement is a dubious one, "then fine." _But!_ I hope you realise I can’t afford to split the rent.”

“Of course,” Dave says, because money had been the furthest thing from his mind.

“And I’m still going to be going out at weird hours, so don’t expect me to suddenly go all domestic,” Klaus continues, seemingly unaware of the irony of the statement; the pair of them had spent the previous evening eating slightly charred enchiladas on the couch, watching reruns of _Jeopardy._ If domesticity is a milestone, Dave suspects they passed it several weeks ago.

“Klaus,” Dave says gently, “I’m not asking you to change anything. I’m actually asking for us to _not_ change things. I don’t want you to feel like you have to find somewhere else to stay, once this cast comes off.”

Pulling his knees up to his chest, Klaus says, “Alright. I guess I’m moving in then.”

“Awesome,” says Dave, trying to keep his glee from showing on his face. “I can get you a key cut tomorrow, after my hospital appointment.”

“A key,” Klaus echoes, eyes wide. “Yes. Because that’s a thing that normal adults have.”

“Don’t worry,” Dave says, eyes crinkling, “even with a key, I don’t think anyone would call you normal.”

“Oh thank god,” breathes Klaus, laying a hand across his forehead, like a Victorian era damsel. “Next thing you know, people will start accusing me of being _heterosexual_ too.”

Dave lays a hand over his heart. “I would never let them,” he promises gravely.

He laughs, turning on his side so that his head is on the pillow, facing Dave with an easy smile gracing his face. “Bless you, defending my honour.”

Shuffling down so that he lies parallel to Klaus, he says, “And don’t you forget it.”

With a sigh, Klaus lets his eyes fall closed. There’s a long moment where he says nothing, and the silence (or, as close to it as Dave can get) drags out, but eventually he murmurs, “Dave?”

“Yeah?” Dave asks, heart beating fast.

“It’s been a really nice two months.”

Dave swallows. “Yeah,” he says, voice wavering. “Yeah, it has been.”

Klaus doesn’t respond. His breathing is slow and deep, face relaxed; he’s already asleep.

He shuts his eyes so that he doesn’t stare, but it takes Dave a long time to follow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> content warnings: implied incest (no actual incest tho) and implied major character death (no actual major character death tho). some blood and nightmares


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> oh yeah baby, we're getting some romance in this one, some yearning, some - dare i say it - skin on skin contact?
> 
> content warnings in the end notes

Dave idly twists the telephone cord around his finger - relishing in his newly freed arm - somewhat zoned out from the actual conversation he’s having. It’s like a reflex reaction to hearing his parent’s voices.

“How’s work?” his mom asks, a little woodenly. It’s the first time they’ve spoken in a few months now, and even longer since Dave had voluntarily called home, but after the late night conversation with Klaus, he felt a little guilty about it. They weren’t bad parents. In fact, they might have been great parents, in another life - a life where they had a kid who wasn’t Dave. Not that they didn’t _try_ to be good parents; Dave knew that they both tried. It just seems to Dave that they shouldn’t have to try quite this hard. There had always been a space between them, an insurmountable hurdle, preventing them from ever really connecting. His parents love him, but they don’t really get him. Like parallel lines, they’ve never really grown together, nor apart. Instead, they are just consistently at a distance from each other, and distance makes strangers of them.

“Work’s okay,” Dave replies, a beat too late. He doesn’t tell her about how he had to stop leading group meetings, or how he had only recently been on sick leave. 

“Good,” she responds.

Dave asks, “How’s dad?”

“Oh, he’s okay. His doctor wants him to lower his cholesterol, but he still gets grumpy whenever I try to limit his butter intake.”

He jokes, a little stilted, “You need to get him that, uh, _I Can’t Believe It’s Not Butter.”_

She laughs, sounding maybe more amused than the statement deserves, and says, “I’ll have to hide it in the back of the fridge.”

Klaus pokes his head over the back of the couch, brow creased. “Why are you talking about butter?”

Dave shrugs at him, a little helplessly.

“Is someone there?” asks mom, perplexed.

He opens his mouth. Closes it again. “Um. Yeah. That was my- my roommate.”

“You have a roommate? Since when?”

“It’s a recent thing.” Dave feels himself flushing, and turns away from Klaus in the hope that he doesn’t notice.

“Well, what’s their name?”

Dave clears his throat. “Klaus.”

“ _Klaus,”_ she echoes. Her tone is inscrutable. “Well. Tell him hi from me.”

He turns back to Klaus, who’s watching with a raised eyebrow. “My mom says hi,” Dave relays, wishing he hadn’t made this phone call at all. 

“Hi, Mrs Katz!” trills Klaus, looking somewhere between nervous and delighted.

“Oh,” she says, “Tell him to call me Beth. Mrs Katz makes me sound _old.”_

“She says you should call her Beth,” Dave says. He’s gotten used to playing a game of telephone between Ben and his siblings, but somehow, translating for his mom is much more awkward.

Looking faintly pleased, Klaus says, “Oh, okay. Hi, Beth!”

“He sounds nice.”

“Yeah,” Dave says, rocking on his heels.

“I’m glad you’ve got someone staying with you. I worry about you, living in the city all on your own.”

“ _Ma,”_ he whines, embarrassed. “I’m fine.”

“We all need help sometimes, David,” she says firmly.

“I know,” he huffs. “Anyways. Tell dad I said hi, okay?”

Mom says, “I will. It was nice hearing from you.”

“You too,” Dave mumbles. “Bye, mom.”

“Speak soon!” she signs off, before he places the phone down with a relieved sigh.

“How come you never told your mom about _me?”_ Ben asks, all faux offence.

“I don’t think you’re technically _living_ with me,” Dave deadpans.

Klaus says, “Ooh, burn.”

Ben narrows his eyes. “Low blow.”

With an innocent shrug, Dave says, “I think that if I told my parents I had more than one guy staying with me, they might start to ask questions.”

He expects Klaus to make a joke at that - it’s low hanging fruit, but Klaus can never resist a good innuendo - except that, when Dave makes his way over to the couch, he realises that Klaus is distracted, spinning something small and silver between his hands. His new key. Something warm flares in Dave’s chest, and he’s suddenly reminded of that morning.

Dave had woken up feeling suspiciously well rested, as well as suspiciously _not alone._ He had felt like he should probably tense up, but even before recognising who was curled into his side, all Dave had felt was a puzzling sort of contentment. Looking down, he had found a head of dark curls resting above his heart. Klaus. In the morning light, he could make out the fan of his eyelashes, the slope of his nose, but at that angle he couldn't tell whether Klaus was still sleeping. He must have been, though, because there was no way Klaus would consciously be so relaxed whilst touching Dave.

Under Dave’s skin, Klaus’ power was surging and teeming with energy, testing the boundary, dipping toward Klaus and back again. It wasn’t like it had been with Diego, when Dave had shoved it towards him until they could share it, until eventually Dave had exhausted himself and it pinged back towards him. No, this was something else. It _knew_ Klaus. It welcomed him, just as much as it did Dave, pouring easily between them like it belonged there. With almost no thought, Dave eased it closer to his chest, not allowing it to cross over at all, and with it, the sound in his ears rose, like someone had turned the volume dial up. No wonder he had slept so well. 

In his sleep, Klaus sighed, pulling closer so that their legs were intertwined. Dave blushed. He couldn’t remember the last time he had been so thoroughly touched - he’s never been one for casual sex, and it’s been a long time since he last dated - and there’s something intoxicating in it, undercut with a guilt, because surely if Klaus was awake, he wouldn’t be comfortable with this. Although, he had laid down in bed with Dave. Maybe this was on purpose? Or was that just wishful thinking?

So caught up in his own spiraling thoughts, he didn’t notice Klaus blinking up at him until he croaked out, “Hey.”

Dave startled, and hoped that Klaus hadn’t heard his heart flutter in his chest. “Hi.” He expected Klaus to wrench upright, to flee from the situation, but instead he just laid his head back down with a casualness that Dave couldn’t understand.

“Man, I forgot how comfy actual beds are,” Klaus hummed. Dave graciously didn’t point out that he was more on top of Dave than the mattress.

“I keep saying we should swap sometimes,” Dave said, fighting to keep his voice even.

“I don’t mind sharing,” Klaus said, a hint of challenge in his voice. “Unless your masculinity is too fragile for that.”

He swallowed a laugh; Dave is _way too queer_ to have a problem with it. “Fine with me.”

Klaus smiled, and Dave could feel it against his chest. “I can’t hear anyone else.”

“No, I’m- I can stop it from passing back.”

“That’s neat,” Klaus said. He sat up. “Anyway, I need to shower. Would you put the coffee on?”

And from there, they had gone about their morning like nothing had happened. Klaus didn’t mention it, and neither did Dave. The only reference to it was Ben, who has been throwing perplexed looks at them all morning, and even more so when they had gotten a key cut for Klaus.

Ben questions, “Aren’t your parents going to wonder about the fact that you’ve got a roommate for your _one bedroom apartment?”_

“Oh,” Dave says, blinking. “Didn’t really think about that one.”

At that, Ben snorts, shaking his head.

"Hey, Dave," Klaus says, his voice carefully light in a way that signifies he's about to say something heavy. His eyes don’t leave the key in his hands.

"Yeah?"

"You remember what we talked about, after the accident? About manifesting Ben?"

Dave's eyes go wide. "Oh. Yeah."

"Do you want to try doing that now?" Klaus asks, and his face goes all hopeful in a way that Dave is defenceless against.

"Yeah. Okay. Ben?"

The ghost steps closer, jaw set with determination. "Okay, let's try it,' he says. "Do you have any idea how you did it the first time?"

"I'm not sure I was even conscious," Dave admits.

Ben nods, like he had been expecting this. “Well, how do you summon me? I mean, that’s gotta be kind of similar, right?”

Dave tilts his head. “I just kind of… pull? I don’t know.”

“Maybe do the same thing, but, like, pull harder?” Klaus suggests. “Like, rather than pulling him towards you, pull him into the same plain of existence as you.”

“That sounds logical,” Dave says, “but at the same time, I have no idea how to do that.”

“Can’t you just do that meditation thing that you do?” asks Klaus. “You know, when you summon Ben, and you close your eyes and go quiet.”

Feeling suddenly embarrassed, Dave explains, “It’s not really meditating. I just try to, like, tune into it. Do you know what I mean?”

Klaus’ expression is blank. “Not really. I spent most of my time trying to tune _out_ of it.”

Dave grimaces. “Right. Sorry.”

“I think Klaus is right. _Don’t tell him I said that,”_ says Ben. “But it sounds like a good place to start.”

“Alright,” Dave says, “I’ll… give that a try?”

Klaus claps his hands. “Fantastic. I’ll yell if I see a ghost.”

“You got this,” Ben encourages. “No pressure.” Which is, of course, a total lie, because Dave is very much aware of the immense pressure on him at this moment. If he gets this right, then Ben and Klaus have the opportunity to talk, after months of passing on messages and one sided conversation. If he _doesn’t_ get this right - well, he doesn’t want to think about how disappointed Ben would be, let alone how _Klaus_ might look at him. If Klaus looks upset, Dave’s heart might just give out on him.

He takes a deep breath, attempting to block out the eyes on him, and the noise of restless spirits. Centering himself, Dave reaches inward, tentatively brushing against the well of power in his gut. He’s had enough practice now that he can locate his connection to Ben without difficulty. The only question is, what does he do with it, now he’s found it?

Maybe he’s overthinking. Last time, he had only been half conscious, so it must be instinctive on some level. Cautiously, he mentally narrows in on the connection. What had Klaus said? 

_Rather than pulling him towards you, pull him into the same plain of existence as you._

He mentally grips the connection, wire taut between them, sparking with energy. So, he just needs to… pull? Like summoning him, but… more? Dave lets out a slow breath, sending out a quick prayer that this works, somehow, and then, before he can doubt himself any further, he wrenches on the string.

And it- 

It-

“Ben?” Dave blurts out, eyes flying open, to find-

Nothing.

“Dave?” It’s Klaus, leaning in with furrowed brows, eyes fearful where they had been hopeful. “What is it?”

“I-” Dave starts, but the words catch in his throat. He shakes his head, squeezing his eyes shut, but even without seeing, he can _feel_ that something’s wrong - an emptiness in his gut, a hollowness where there had once been connection. 

“What happened?” demands Klaus, sounding more panicked by the second. 

He looks at Klaus, and wonders how he’s supposed to tell the person that he- 

That he-

_How can he tell Klaus that he’s lost Ben?_

"I don't know," he says, voice shaking. "I just tried to- tried summoning him, like you said, but he's just _gone!"_ He stands and shakes his hands out, trying to get a grip on himself, but his lungs spasm and ache in his chest.

"Well _bring him back,"_ cries Klaus, wild eyed.

"I don't know how! I can't feel him, it's like he doesn't exist anymore," Dave gasps out. "Fuck. Did I kill him? Ghosts can't die, right?"

"No," says Klaus, but he doesn't sound certain. "I mean. Maybe you… banished him?"

Dave runs his hands over his face. _Banished._ Sure. Why not. “So how do I _unbanish_ him?”

“How the hell would I know? I’ve never even banished a ghost - not through lack of trying.”

“Fuck.”

They look at each other, faces lined with despair and helplessness, and Dave feels a tide of self-revulsion sweep over him. How did he manage to screw things up _this badly?_ What if he can’t bring Ben back? What if he’s gone forever? He lays his hand over his scarred chest, attempting to breathe through the sharp echo of pain that resides there. He had thought that, since he got discharged, he was done with this, with ruining lives, with _ending lives-_

“Dave?” says Klaus, with something like concern, but that doesn’t make sense, because why would Klaus be concerned for _Dave,_ the person who’s just _killed his dead brother-_ “Dave, okay, shit, just breathe, yeah?”

Oh. Breathing. He’d forgotten about that one.

“Okay, good,” Klaus continues with thinly veiled panic, “good job, just- keep doing that.”

With the hand not rubbing over his sternum, Dave gives a thumbs up.

Klaus splutters a laugh. It’s familiar to Dave, from all the time his squad had been sent on a bullshit mission that they didn’t expect to come back from; the laugh of someone staring disaster in the face.

Swallowing against the dryness of his mouth, Dave says, “I’m so sorry.”

“No, no, no,” Klaus brushes him off, “it’s fine. I freak out all the time.” It’s not what Dave was apologising for, and they both know it.

“I’ll get him back,” Dave tells him, despite having no idea how he will do it.

“We’ll figure it out,” says Klaus. “Right? I mean, technically, I think I’ve done it before.”

“You have?” Dave asks with renewed hope.

Seesawing his hand, Klaus says, “Sort of. Not after banishing anyone, but, uh, when Ben died? At first, he wasn’t here. I had to- bring him here?”

“Oh.” He isn’t sure how replicable that is.

Klaus sits heavily, something lost overtaking his features. “I actually kind of… trapped him here. He was about to go into the light - _so cliché_ \- but I told him that it would still be there waiting, that he could stay for a little while.” He shrugs. “I was bullshitting, like always, and, uh…” 

Taking a seat by his side, Dave searches for something to say, but comes up empty. He wants nothing more than to reach out, to take one of Klaus’ shaking hands in his, and he knows he can’t, but everything within Dave aches to hold him. 

“So maybe it’s a blessing in disguise, right?” Klaus says with a bleak smile. “Maybe you finally gave him the chance to move on.”

Dave considers this for a moment, attempting to reconcile this concept with the Ben that he knows. “Klaus… I’m sorry, but that’s just stupid.”

Klaus startles at his bluntness, a shocked laugh falling from his mouth. “What?”

“Look, I’ve been living with the guy for months now, and if there’s one thing about him that I know for certain, it’s that he would never leave you like that. Not on purpose. He loves you way too much to be okay with moving on.”

Disbelieving, Klaus says, “You must not know Ben well, if you think that.”

Dave is unswayed. “Did you ever consider that you didn’t trap him? Maybe he just wanted to stay.”

It’s clear from the bafflement on Klaus’ face that _no,_ he hadn’t considered it. “Why would he want that? He hated being stuck with me!”

“He hated seeing you get hurt,” Dave says, because it’s something he understands intimately, a unique pain that he and Ben have shared. 

“Yeah, and who’s fault was that?”

“Klaus,” utters Dave, “you- are you really blaming yourself?” He remembers the bruises, the bloodied lip, the way Klaus had shrunk back from anger and flinched at sudden movements. He remembers seeing people hurt Klaus, and Klaus insisting he had it under control. 

Klaus grins, a twisted, wretched thing. “Who else is there?”

And Dave is just- _gutted_ at the honest, accepting way Klaus condemns himself. “How about the people who decided to hurt you?” he counters.

“A lot of people have tried to hurt me,” Klaus says. “You might notice there’s a common denominator there.”

(Dave isn’t going to cry. He isn’t, because that’s not going to help Klaus, and he isn’t going to make Klaus’ trauma about himself.) 

“The _common denominator_ is that bad people take advantage of vulnerable people.”

“And who decided to get high? Who decided to go home with shady people? Who _put me in a vulnerable position?_ ” questions Klaus, a hollow sort of victory in his voice, like Dave had just proved his point. 

“How about the people who failed to help you? Like, I don’t know, the asshole who calls himself your dad?”

A look of gleeful surprise crosses Klaus’ face. “Now that’s an argument I can get behind. Why take personal responsibility for my life when I can blame it all on daddy issues?”

Dave pinches the bridge of his nose. “That’s… That’s not what I was saying.”

“Nope, too late now,” Klaus says. “You better bring Ben back so that I can tell him that I’ve done nothing wrong ever in my life.”

“Alright. Fine, okay, let’s do that,” Dave says, realising that he had been so distracted by Klaus that he had momentarily forgot to worry about how he would find Ben. He wonders whether Klaus did that on purpose. “How did you summon him the first time?”

“I just kind of… thought about how much it would suck if he never came back.” His nose wrinkles, as if disgusted at the sincerity that had escaped him.

“Okay, I can do that,” Dave says. He closes his eyes, attempting to focus on how terrible it would be if he never found Ben, whilst also trying to skirt the edges of the panic attack threatening to overtake him. It’s easy to wish Ben were here, but tricky to do that whilst still breathing in a normal pattern. 

After an indeterminate time later, Klaus says, “Well, this obviously isn’t working.”

“Sorry,” says Dave, opening his eyes. “I- Every time I think about finding him, I start panicking that I _won’t_ find him.”

Klaus chews his lip, suddenly avoiding eye contact. “I… have an idea.”

“Okay?” 

“I’m not completely sober,” Klaus admits. “Probably not sober enough to do this, not by myself. But maybe, we could…”

“Share?” Dave suggests tentatively.

Klaus says, “Right. My experience, your sobriety?”

“It could work,” agrees Dave. “But-”

“It’s fine,” Klaus says quickly. “I’m not _scared.”_

“I just- I don’t want to make you feel, um, uncomfortable, or-”

“Dave,” says Klaus, “this isn’t about me. This is about getting Ben back. If there’s a chance this could work, then I’m doing it.”

(Dave swallows down the words attempting to spill, words like, _you’re so fucking brave, do you know how brave you are?)_ “Okay. If it’s too much, we can stop, whenever you want.”

Klaus snorts. “You sound like you’re trying to convince a virgin to sleep with you.”

He flushes. “Sorry. Um.”

“Just get on with it, before I change my mind,” Klaus says with a wink, like he’s playing into the joke.

“Well, that’s a faintly concerning statement,” Dave says, “but okay. Let’s do it.”

“Okay,” says Klaus.

A beat. 

“We gotta actually touch, if we want to do this,” Klaus reminds him with a slight smirk.

“Right. Sorry, yes,” Dave says, realising he had frozen at the prospect of actually touching Klaus ( _touching! Klaus!)._ He reaches out a hand between them, and hopes Klaus doesn’t notice the way it’s shaking. 

And Klaus, without an ounce of hesitation, grasps his hand, and holds on tight.

Coincidentally, Dave forgets how to inhale.

Klaus’ hand is warm in his, fingers more slender than his own, and yet they feel strong as they grip Dave with an almost desperate determination, like they’re weathering a storm with only each other to cling to. It sets Dave afire. 

So immersed in the moment, it takes a moment for Dave to even register the way the persistent hum of death has quieted, the way Klaus’ power has settled between them like it belongs there. He has to forcibly remind himself why they’re doing this. Dave can’t allow them to fail just because he’s distracted by an ubiquitous touching of hands. 

He should probably close his eyes, he thinks, except that Klaus hasn’t closed his either, and they’re staring at Dave with an intensity that he can’t bear to look away from.

The power hums between their hands, like a cat purring in satisfaction, like it was always supposed to be held between them. He can almost see it, in the periphery of his gaze, a blue glow that reflects against the green of Klaus’ irises, like a spark of electricity. He wonders if Klaus feels as breathless as he does. Wonders if he’s imagining the way they breathe in tandem. 

“Holy fuck, _get a room._ ”

Klaus jumps half out of his seat, as they whirl around to where Ben is leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, nose wrinkled in disgust. Klaus yelps, “Ben!”

“You’re back,” Dave says, feeling somewhat disoriented. 

“Back?” echoes Ben.

Klaus’ expression goes unreadable. “Yeah. You disappeared on us.”

“What?” There’s something fragile in the way Ben looks now, something scared.

“For half an hour, at least,” agrees Dave.

Shaking his head, Ben says, “I- I don’t remember going anywhere.”

The statement sits in the air between them. 

“I don’t think we should try that again,” Dave decides. It was bad enough when he thought Ben might have moved _on,_ wherever that might be, but the idea that Ben had stopped existing for a while there? He won’t risk that happening again.

“Agreed,” says Klaus, looking distinctly unsettled, a sharp contrast to his usual carefree facade. 

Ben sits down in the armchair. “I guess I don’t need to be visible, if Klaus has stopped being a baby about sharing his powers.”

Klaus pouts. “I resent that. Maybe I’m _not_ done being a baby about it.” In a contradictory gesture, he links his fingers with Dave’s, holding him tighter.

“I think that being cautious around these powers is perfectly valid,” interjects Dave.

“Suck up,” mutters Ben.

Dave narrows his eyes. He had been planning to be more delicate about it, but if Ben is going to pretend not to care… “Hey, Ben,” he says, “how come you’re sticking around as a ghost?”

Ben gapes at him. “Oh my god, you can’t just _ask someone why they’re a ghost.”_

“I just did, though,” Dave says with a sweet smile.

(The look on Klaus’ face is somewhere between impressed and horrified. Dave suppresses a laugh.)

“I- Well,” Ben splutters, “it’s not like I could just leave this asshole to his own devices. He’d probably get himself killed within a month.”

“Mhmm,” Dave says. “And why would that be a problem for you?”

_“What?”_

“I’m just asking. Why are you worried about what would happen to Klaus?”

“He’s my brother!”

“And?”

“And I love him, obviously!” Ben says, only to snap his jaw shut, as if he might stop the confession from escaping. His eyes go wide, and if ghosts could blush, Dave’s certain he would be blushing.

Sounding vaguely choked, Klaus says, “You what?”

Ben shuffles his feet. “Whatever. Shut up.”

“Did you just say you _love me?”_

“No,” lies Ben.

“Oh my god. You love me.”

“Fine, yes, I love you! You’re my brother, asshole, of course I love you,” Ben grinds out.

Dave gives Klaus a nudge with his elbow, quietly marvelling at the easy touch, raising an expectant eyebrow.

“Oh!” says Klaus. “Yeah, love you too, Benny. Everyone knows that, though; it’s not like I let just any ghost hang around me.”

Ben shoots him a weird look. “It’s not like you had a choice.”

Klaus returns the weird look. “Uh, yeah, I did.”

“Uh, no, you didn’t?”

Squinting, Klaus says, “You think I _accidentally_ stayed just sober enough to see you, almost always? That took _skill._ And _math.”_

“You. Did that on purpose?”

“Of course I did,” Klaus says, bewildered.

“So what you guys are saying,” Dave interjects with a healthy amount of smugness, “is that you both chose to stay together, because of a mutual love and care.”

Klaus accuses, “Did you just use _therapy on us?”_

“No, I’m not either of your therapists,” says Dave. “That would be unethical. No, I just manipulated you into talking about your feelings. Totally different.”

Betrayed, Ben says, “But I thought you were the nice one.”

Dave asks brightly, “You think I’m nice?”

Doing that strange not-blush again, Ben announces, “This is it. I’m going into the light. I’m done.”

“Do you think _I’m_ nice?” Klaus questions.

Dave laughs, and the knot that had tangled in his chest when he banished Ben finally dissolves.

And Klaus doesn’t let go of his hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (cw: borderline panic attack, references to domestic violence, internalised victim blaming, some dark humour, an oblique mean girls reference...)
> 
> dave: wow, klaus was so casual about sharing that bed  
> klaus, in the shower: oh god oh god oh god oh god oh gd o fdf dfsdjlkjd


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> y'all: oh my god they held hands!!  
> me: hmm. guess it's time for some sexual content :)
> 
> content warnings in the end notes (including warnings for the mild sexual content in this chapter)

"Can I ask you a question?"

Dave blinks up from where had been organising his work; he hadn't had any counselling sessions booked for the day, so he had been asked by his supervisor to address thank you letters to the VA's most generous ( _rich)_ benefactors. It was tedious work, but it hasn't been so bad working from home when Klaus was sharing the couch with him. They had whiled away the afternoon listening to Nina Simone records, Klaus sketching on scrap paper whilst Dave stuffed letters into envelopes. Thankfully, he's finally got the letters completed and ready to post. Klaus has his full attention.

"Anything," he says.

Klaus tongues the inside of his cheek, pencil twirling in his grasp. On anyone else, it would be a sure sign of agitation, but in this case, it's just Klaus. Sitting still is a foreign language to him. "Remember when you fell in the shower?"

"No," deadpans Dave. "Remind me."

Klaus whacks him with a pillow.

"Ow! Fine, yes, I remember," Dave admits laughingly.

Smirking, Klaus says, "Okay, there's just something about that night I keep remembering."

Dave's eyes shoot wide with alarm. "If this is going to be a commentary on my body, I _am_ going to feel very embarrassed and maybe cry and then it'll make things awkward, so-"

With a startled chortle, Klaus informs him, "It's not, but I love that that's where your brain went."

He settles down. "Okay, proceed."

“So, I didn’t really take notice at the time, what with the emergency medical situation going on,” Klaus explains, “but I’m pretty sure the bathroom light was off.”

“That’s not a question.”

Klaus rolls his eyes, and clarifies, “Were you showering in the dark?”

Which is when Dave decides to study the art of avoiding eye contact. “Uh,” he says, scratching the stubble of his jaw, “I guess I just find it kind of awkward otherwise. Ghosts don’t generally care much about…”

“Privacy?”

“Yeah, privacy.”

Klaus nods sagely. “I remember. I guess I kind of got used to it? Or, maybe I just never had a chance to develop a sense of privacy.” A frown passes over his face like a dark cloud, but he brushes it aside, saying, “Or maybe I’m just a natural exhibitionist. Who’s to say?”

Grimacing, Dave says, “Probably the first one-”

“ _Who’s to say,”_ Klaus repeats, pointedly talking over him.

“Who’s to say,” Dave agrees reluctantly.

“Anyway, stop distracting me,” says Klaus, an accusing finger pointed at Dave’s face. “Do you just, like, never get naked anymore? Are you a _Never Nude?”_

Dave purses his lips. “Okay, I don’t know what that is exactly, but no? I don’t think so? I just keep the lights off whilst I shower, so that I don’t have to worry about uninvited guests.”

“That’s... “ Klaus squints at him, “kind of sweet, but mostly sad. And kind of a hazard.”

With a self conscious shrug, he replies, “It’s that, or I spend the whole time feeling like I’m being watched. I mean, I _still_ feel like I’m being watched, but at least it’s mostly irrational when it’s dark.”

“Do you get dressed in the dark too? Because I have to say, it would explain some of your outfits.”

“Okay, hold on,” Dave says, mildly outraged, “what’s wrong with my outfits.”

“Oh, hon,” Klaus says with much pity.

“I don’t always get dressed in the dark,” Dave says. “Sometimes I just do it in bed, under the sheets.”

A positively evil grin on his face, Klaus asks, his voice a conspiratorial whisper, “Is that where you’ve been jacking off, too?”

In a strangled voice, Dave says, _“Holy fuck.”_

“What?” Klaus says with theatrical innocence. “It’s nothing to be ashamed of! I just don’t want to accidentally walk in on you having some _Dave Time,_ if you know what I mean.”

Dave puts his hands over his face, and wishes they were big enough to cover what is sure to be a massive blush. “Please never talk to me again.”

Klaus continues on like he didn’t hear him. “I did think it was probably going on in the shower, but you’re always so quick in there, and with what you said about nosy ghosties, it doesn’t really track.”

“Why is this happening?” Dave mumbles into his palms. 

“So I’m thinking you’re having a sneaky fun time in the bedroom - which is fine, by the way, good for you! But maybe we should have a signal, a sign or something. A sock on the door? That’s always a classic. What do you think?”

“I _think,”_ he says, “that you’re terrible.”

“It’s a serious question!” Klaus insists. “Now I’m officially moved in and all.”

Shaking his head, Dave says, “We really don’t need to talk about this. It just- Trust me, it won’t be a problem.”

Cocking his head, Klaus studies him for a moment, unusually still. Then, ducking his head closer, he softly asks, “Wait, do you mean you don’t…?”

Dave, if it’s possible, goes even redder.

“Not that there’s anything wrong with that!” Klaus hurries to add. “No judgement. I forget that not everyone is a sexual deviant like me. Do you just not experience, uh-”

“No, I do,” Dave interrupts, mostly so that he doesn’t have to listen to Klaus talk about it any longer. “I mean, I used to, um, do that.” Meanwhile, the rest of his brain screams: _Well, this sure is a conversation that’s happening!_

“Oh,” he says sadly. “Is this related to the whole _showering in the dark_ issue?”

“We really don’t have to talk about this,” groans Dave.

“Does that mean you haven’t - y’know - since you’ve had these powers?” Klaus asks, aghast, and somewhat guilty looking.

Dave pinches his nose. “Look, it’s just- weird, when anyone could walk in at any time,” he says, defensive. “Like, nothing about that is a turn on!”

“But it’s been- I don’t know, a year? If I went that long without an orgasm, I think I would explode.”

Making an futile effort not to put together a mental image of _orgasm_ and _Klaus,_ Dave grits out, “It’s fine. Really. Not a big deal.”

Klaus chews on the inside of his cheek. 

“Honestly. Totally fine.”

But he still looks disconcerted. It’s kind of funny how upset he looks by the situation, Dave thinks; these powers have a lot of downsides, ranging from inconvenient to devastating, but the lack of opportunity to masturbate is laughably trivial in the scheme of things.

“It’s just…” Klaus says slowly, “ _sad.”_

Dave can’t help but snort. “Is it, though?”

“Yes!” he insists, taking a long sip of whiskey-laced coffee (or coffee-laced whiskey, depending on your perspective). “You deserve good things, like long showers, and privacy, and _orgasms.”_

“Well. Thank you?”

Klaus nods absently, seemingly deep in thought. His sudden silence, to Dave, seems increasingly concerning. Then, just when he starts to think Klaus has gotten distracted and forgotten the topic altogether, he suddenly turns, folding his legs under himself and sitting on his heels. He's angled himself directly facing Dave, and his eyes are fixed and focused. "I have an idea," he announces.

The sudden lack of space between them is dizzying. From this close, Dave can see each individual eyelash, each smudge of eyeliner. Faintly, he says, "Okay?" 

"I want to give you… a gift, of sorts," Klaus says, utterly serious. "Considering how long your current dry spell has been."

Dave just about manages to stifle the embarrassing noise that rises up in his throat. He must be dreaming. That's the only logical explanation, right? That, or this is some kind of heaven - except Dave knows in his bones that even the afterlife could not be as beautiful as the real, living Klaus is - and besides, Dave can feel his heart galloping in his chest like a wild thing. He has no idea what expression is on his face, but he imagines it must be stricken, or frozen, or, knowing his luck, some sort of flushed, love sick smile. Thankfully, his voice is somehow steady when he breathes, "What do you mean?"

Klaus bites his lip, a coy look in his eye. He's drawing out the moment. "Well, I was thinking," he says, "if you want to have a little _self time_ , I could babysit the ghosties while you had some fun."

Oh.

_Oh._

"You mean- You'd- whilst I-"

"Sure," Klaus says flippantly.

"But wouldn't that be… weird?"

With a shrug, Klaus says, "Our situation is _already_ weird. It's not like there are any rules on how to deal with ghost powers, right?"

"I guess not," Dave says. "But, like, I couldn't- it would be awkward. Doing… _that,_ if you knew that I was doing it."

"Why would that matter?"

"It just _does,"_ he says, a little desperate.

Klaus shakes his head, clucks his tongue. "We're both adults here, David. There's nothing to be embarrassed about."

"Are you serious? This might be the most embarrassing conversation I've had in my life."

"You're adorable," Klaus says, as if that doesn't just make Dave feel _more_ embarrassed.

Dave whines, " _Don't."_ Being teased by Klaus is one thing, but being teased by his _crush_ about _this_ is another.

"Okay, okay, how about this," proposes Klaus. "I'll babysit - _ghostsit -_ whilst you take a nice, long shower without having to worry about unwelcome guests. And whatever you get up to in the shower…"

"Showering. That's all I would be doing," Dave inisists.

"Is that a yes?"

"I…" he dithers. In all honesty, a shower with no worrying about ghostly visits _does_ sound appealing. Dave has gotten used to his quick wash downs in the pitch black - it reminds him of his army days - but he does miss the relaxation that he used to find in the routine of a hot shower. And Klaus does _seem_ genuinely happy to help. "You're not doing this because you think you owe me, right?"

Klaus hesitates a beat, long enough to make Dave reconsider, but he eventually says, "I'm trying to be a friend? I don't have a lot of practice, but, uh. This feels like something a friend would do." 

Well. Now Dave _can’t_ say no. 

“Okay,” he allows, and Klaus’ face breaks into a grin, although it doesn’t quite hide the anxiety lingering in his eyes. Part of Dave still feels like he should say no, but he knows that it’s not fair; it’s not his decision to make. These powers don’t belong to him, not really, and if Klaus says that he wants to take them, then Dave will respect that. “If you’re sure you want to do this, then yes. And- thank you.”

Expression caught between soft and uneasy, Klaus says, “Yeah, you’re, uh, you’re welcome.”

“Can I… hug you?” Dave asks, feeling somewhat foolish for the way his voice is hesitant and shy. They need to touch anyway, if they want to transfer these powers, and they’re friends, and friends hug each other. 

Lips pressed tight, Klaus nods his head.

Dave tries not to overthink it, but the mechanics of hugging seem suddenly alien; he doesn’t know where to put his hands, which way to turn his head. He finds himself sort of hovering, arms outstretched but not daring to touch. It isn’t until Klaus finally tilts into him that Dave instinctively wraps his arms around him, hands spread broadly over the sharp angle of his shoulder blades. Klaus has his arms looped around Dave’s waist, and he drops his head onto Dave’s shoulder, pressing his face into the curve of his neck. It’s breathtakingly intimate, the way he can feel Klaus’ eyelashes dance along his skin as he blinks, and the way Klaus’ pinky finger brushes over the skin of his hip where Dave’s t-shirt has ridden up. An absurd thought floats up in Dave’s mind - wouldn’t it be perfect if they could stay like this forever, curled into each other, holding on tightly - but it seems Klaus has had the same thought, because he seems in no rush to pull back. 

So they just sort of… stay, for a while. Breathing. Holding. Dave lets his forehead drop onto the ledge of Klaus’ shoulder, hoping that maybe if he couldn’t see Klaus, he might not feel quite so overcome with it all. 

An indeterminate amount of time later, a shudder runs through Klaus (Dave can feel it like an earthquake under his hands) and he pulls back, a smile on his face just this side of manic. “So,” Klaus says, “ready for some alone time?”

“To _shower,”_ says Dave, but he takes the cue, unwinding himself from Klaus and pretending that he isn’t flushed. 

“Yes, showering,” Klaus agrees with an exaggerated wink.

The connection breaks; like a spinning coin, his powers finally fall, nudged by Dave, and settle onto Klaus. The transfer is written onto Klaus’ face in the pinch of his brow, the tightness around his eyes. 

(And for Dave, finally, there is _quiet.)_

He clears his throat, attempting to navigate the situation into something resembling normal. “So, I guess I’ll go shower?”

“Yeah,” says Klaus, his voice cracking for a moment, before he picks up the thread of conversation. His voice is pitched slightly louder than usual - compensating for the loudness that he can suddenly hear. “Yeah, go ahead. I’ll just watch some TV. With the sound up extra loud. So, y’know, if you _do_ decide to-”

“I won’t,” Dave says. “But. Thanks.”

Klaus smiles wolfishly. "Of course."

Dave turns away before he can say anything else, because his brain is full of words that would only make things awkward. 

He still feels eyes on him as he walks to the bathroom, but he doesn't think they're from ghosts this time.

The plumbing is old, so Dave starts up the shower before he even begins to undress. It feels… _taboo_ , almost, to be doing this with the light on. In the months that he's had Klaus' powers, he's become accustomed to finding privacy in the pitch black. Stripping off his clothes, he reveals swaths of pale skin and scar tissue, and the glance at the mirror freezes him in place. He has, at some point over these last few months, become strangers with his own body. The sight of the silver scarring on his chest startles him. His hand absently reaches up to trace the topography of it, a shape he knows by heart. 

Breaking away from his reflection, he steps into the shower - a novelty, because usually it's more of a fumbling shuffle - and under the hot spray of water. He closes his eyes against it, an unbidden smile rising to his cheeks, before reaching for the shampoo bottle. Normally, this is the point at which Dave is struck with a sudden paranoia, like he might be caught in a Hitchcock horror, but it’s easily dissuaded with a quick glance around the well lit bathroom, confirming he truly is alone. The tension in his muscles rinses away with the soapy bubbles.

He wonders whether Klaus understands what a gift he’s given Dave. Probably not. 

The thought of him brings to mind their conversation, and Dave blushes to himself. Klaus hadn’t seemed to be bothered by the… _sexual_ topic, which only cements the idea that he doesn’t return any of Dave’s less than platonic feelings. Surely, if Klaus felt the same way, felt the same shy wanting, then he wouldn’t have broached the concept with such casual cheer?

Yet, as much as Dave tells himself this, some small rebellious part of his mind wonders, hopes… What if it’s the opposite? What if Klaus was so happy to discuss… _that…_ because he wants him too? Maybe it’s wishful thinking, but he can’t quite ignore the idea. Maybe Klaus _liked_ talking about it, liked thinking about Dave…

After all, if Dave allowed himself to picture Klaus like that, allowed himself to imagine Klaus in this shower, touching himself, pleasuring himself-

Dave clears his throat. He feels warm, almost dizzy; a result of the hot water, probably. 

Klaus _had_ insisted that Dave could take his time in the shower. And it’s not like he would be able to tell, either way. So if Dave _did_ allow himself to-

No. It would be weird. Right?

Right?

He runs his hands through his water-slick hair, and pretends he’s not already half hard.

Not that there’s anything wrong with masturbation. Dave’s way too old to be feeling so embarrassed about something as natural as that. He’s alone, in his own damn bathroom - so what if he does touch himself? He absently rubs soap over his skin as he mulls it over, across the length of his shoulders, down his chest, his stomach…

No one would know. And if Klaus guessed, if he suspected, would that be so bad?

Maybe… maybe Klaus wants him to. 

The thought of it makes his knees quake. 

Almost unconsciously, he wraps his fingers around himself.

(He doesn’t last long. It’s been so long since he last took pleasure like this, and he’s so sensitive to his own touch after so long denying himself. And if, when he comes, he’s thinking about Klaus’ silken voice promising him _a gift,_ and the knowing, heated look in his eyes… well. Nobody has to know.)

* * *

“How was your shower?”

Dave smiles, and hopes it doesn’t look guilty. “It was good. In a totally normal, boring way.”

Eyes sparkling with amusement, Klaus says, “I’m glad you enjoyed yourself.”

He clears his throat. “Do you, uh, want me to take them back now?”

Klaus gives him an easy smile, and says, “Nah, it’s all good. Ben should be home soon, right?”

Checking the clock, Dave hums in agreement; Diego’s self defence class ends in a few minutes, which means Ben will be back to gossip about it. Apparently, the ghost finds endless amusement in watching his brother be aggressively mothered by half of his students.

“We can have a catch up,” Klaus decides. “How about you go take a nap? You can’t have slept well on the couch.”

Last night, Dave had insisted on letting Klaus have the bed, remembering what he had said about enjoying an actual mattress. For a moment, he had thought Klaus looked disappointed as Dave explained that he would take the couch, but he had probably imagined it.

“A nap does sound pretty good,” admits Dave. The ghosts never allow him to sleep well, and the bed situation hadn’t helped.

“Then go,” says Klaus, flapping his hands in dismissal.

“Wake me up if you need to swap back, okay?”

Klaus reminds him, “I did deal with these powers for twenty something years, you know. I can handle them whilst you take a nap. Besides-” he holds his whiskey/coffee up in a mock toast “-I’m buzzed enough to keep things from getting too loud.”

“Okay, okay,” Dave digresses, “tell Ben hi from me.”

“Will do.”

“And…” he hesitates, not wanting to make Klaus uncomfortable, but unwilling to leave his kindness unacknowledged, “thank you. Like, really.”

“Oh. Well. You know me,” Klaus says with forced levity, “a paradigm of selflessness.”

Dave concurs, “The human embodiment of philanthropy.”

Klaus snorts. “Go take a nap, before I change my mind.”

“Yes, sir,” Dave says with a wink.

He half expects to be unable to find sleep. Silence is alien to him, and it seems loud in his ears, like a negative image of the usual screams. As he burrows into the blankets, though, he realises he hasn’t changed the sheets since Klaus slept in them, and he can smell him on them.

Sleep takes him, fast and heavy.

* * *

He wakes to the sound of a shriek.

This isn’t particularly unusual in itself, so Dave rolls over in bed and closes his eyes.

Then he recalls the circumstances of his nap; whoever had been screaming, it wasn’t a ghost.

He’s on his feet within a second after that, military training kicking in as he goes from sleepy to wide awake in the space between heartbeats. Heart in his throat, he runs out into the living room, calling out, _“Klaus?”_

“Stay the fuck back!” Klaus hisses, focusing on something unseen. He’s clambered up to stand atop the couch, the TV remote clutched in his hand, brandished out before him like a weapon.

Leaping up to stand next to him, Dave grabs his shoulder, wincing when Klaus flinches, eyes going wide and terrified before catching onto Dave’s face, and promptly throwing himself into his arms. Dave goes to say something - something comforting - but is immediately distracted by the ghost who’s screaming obscenities at them. Ben is doing his best to block him, but the spirit is tenacious, blood and spittle flying from his mouth, eyes wild and furious. 

Dave says, “Hey, man-”

But the ghost isn’t interested in platitudes. _“Fuck you,”_ he rages, “Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you-”

He can’t help but wonder whether the ghost even knows what he’s angry about. 

“ _Fuck you, fuck you, I’ll kill you, I’ll kill you-”_

Klaus whimpers into Dave’s chest.

Protectiveness swells in his gut, and Dave acts on reflex. He reaches internally for the connection to the ghost, and, as he did with Ben, he _pulls-_

And just like that, the ghost is no more.

“Holy shit,” utters Ben.

Peeking out from Dave’s shirt, Klaus asks, “Is he gone?”

“Yeah,” Dave says, blinking. “Yeah. He’s…”

“You banished him,” Ben says in wonder.

“I- yeah, I guess I did.”

Klaus drops down onto the couch, dragging Dave down with him. He’s shaking all over, a thin sheen of sweat on his face. “Fuck. How did you…?”

“It was like that time I made Ben disappear,” Dave explains slowly. “I don’t know. It’s like… I pull all the energy out of the connection.”

Ben says, “Holy shit.”

With a shaky laugh, Klaus concurs, “Holy _shit.”_

“I,” Dave says faintly, “just _banished a ghost.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> content warnings: mentions of non-consensual voyeurism (ghosts), discussions around masturbation, actual masturbation (it's kept fairly vague i think), mild blood and death threats (again, ghosts)
> 
> -
> 
> klaus to ben whilst dave's napping: dude help, i think im sick or something. i keep getting this weird warm feeling around dave, and i want to give him nice things, like naps and orgasms. whats wrong with me?
> 
> ben: .......i hate you so much


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> another chapter of mostly fluff. who am i? i don't recognise myself anymore

“Hey, should I order some food? Diego likes pizza, right?”

Klaus seesaws his hand. “Depends who you ask. He would say he doesn’t, but he totally does.”

Nodding sagely, Dave says, “Gotcha. Do you think he would prefer something else? I don’t know if there are any healthier alternatives.”

“Oh, he’ll eat it, he just wants to complain whilst he does,” says Klaus. “Actually, can we get Chinese? I’m kind of craving kung pao. Plus, my belly will hate me if I eat any more dairy.”

“Why did you eat so much ice cream last night then?”

“Because it was so _good,”_ Klaus whines. 

Dave laughs. “Alright, Chinese it is.” He checks his wallet, and frowns; he seems to have more cash than he remembered. 

"Do you think Ben will be back in time for the launch?" Klaus queries.

"He promised he would be," Dave reminds him.

Klaus hums. "Kinda feel like that was a lie."

"In all fairness, I wouldn't blame him,' Dave says as he searches around his random junk drawer for the correct menu. "If I could get a front row seat for a rocket launch, I would lie too."

"But it's supposed to be a family event," Klaus whines, frowning down at his knitting needles. He seems to spend more time untangling things than he does knitting.

"Mm, but… _rocketship_."

"Nerd," says Klaus. "He only gets away with it because you're too soft to summon him."

"I can live with that," replies Dave. "Hey, do you want prawn crackers?"

"Obviously."

Dave smiles as he dials the restaurant. He orders his and Klaus' usual - trying not to get sentimental over the two of them having a _usual_ \- plus a few extra dishes, figuring whatever Diego doesn't eat, Klaus will probably snack on at 3am when he can't sleep.

By the time he's finished ordering, Klaus has turned the TV on, flicking over to a news channel that's set to cover the launch. At the moment, they're running older footage of Luther giving an interview. Klaus scowls at his brother's words, and then decisively mutes the television.

Dave flops onto the sofa, flinging the menu onto the coffee table. "Don't want to listen to him talk?"

"Not when he's just kissing dad's ass," Klaus says, turning back to his knitting. "Like, it doesn't matter what he says in interviews; dad's never gonna love him."

"That's a pretty hard thing to accept," Dave says, voice neutral.

"Well, the rest of us did it - or died trying," Klaus says. His mouth is twisted into something bitter. Dave doesn't know much about the circumstances of Ben's death, but he can infer enough.

Softly, Dave says, "Well, yeah. But, Luther's kind of- classic golden child syndrome." 

Klaus squints at him. "If you're asking whether he was the favourite, then yeah."

"He was supposed to be the leader, right? Your dad made him feel special, like he was destined to save the world or whatever."

"Yes, yes, he was the good son, I was the useless one, what's your point?"

Dave hesitates, chewing on his lip. Klaus has the look of someone who wants to run. Dave has to squash the urge to take his hand in his. "I'm not trying to- to compare trauma or anything. I just meant that sometimes abuse is harder to recognise when your abuser isn't constantly berating you."

For a long moment, Klaus is quiet, thumb running over the ball of wool in his lap. Then, with a groan, he tilts his head forward until he's almost touching his ankles. "Why'd you gotta make me feel bad for him? It was so much easier to just hate him."

A laugh bursts out of Dave's chest. "Sorry," he says unapologetically.

"You're so nauseatingly _nice._ It makes me look more of a bitch just by comparison."

"Hey, no," Dave says, laughter dying. "Don't say that. You're kind, Klaus."

Klaus snorts. "Well, that's exactly what a nice person would say."

Dave opens his mouth, only to close it, defeated, when he realises that anything he could say would only reinforce Klaus' point. "Okay. But. Maybe I like how you're not nice when you don't mean it."

"You… like it when I'm being an asshole?"

"No. Well. I like how authentic you are," says Dave, fumbling over his words. "I'm usually nice even when I don't want to be nice, you know? I've never been one to just say what I'm thinking. I like that about you."

"I'm sorry to burst your bubble, Dave," Klaus says with a cold smile, "but I am ninety nine percent bullshit."

Shaking his head, Dave says, "I don't think so. Like, sure, you often don't show how you're feeling, but… you're always you. Y'know?"

Klaus drawls, "Most people wouldn't think that's a good thing."

"Most people are idiots," Dave counters, just to see the warmth return to Klaus' eyes. 

The moment is broken by a knock at the door. Klaus jerks back, and it’s only then that Dave realises how close their faces had gotten.

Without missing a beat, Klaus launches himself over the couch and rushes to the door. “Diego!” he crows, flinging the door open and dragging him into a hug.

Lucky, Dave thinks, that it wasn’t the delivery guy. Luckier still, Diego's ghostly entourage is small today, consisting of a single ghost, who doesn't even bother to scream.

Diego grumbles but doesn’t pull away until Klaus is finished hugging him. “Yeah, alright. Is Ben here?”

Klaus gasps. “Careful,” he says, “or I’ll start thinking I’m not your favourite.”

“You’re not my favourite.”

"It's okay, Ben isn't here," Dave says cheerfully, "you don't have to pretend."

"I'm not pretending," Diego protests hotly, shrugging out of his leather jacket - which only reduces the amount of leather he's wearing by a fraction. "Just because Klaus is your favourite doesn't mean he's mine."

Klaus crows, "I'm your favourite?"

Dave goes still. "I don't have favourites."

"Everyone has favourites," Diego counters. "Just look at dad."

They swivel to look at the TV; another rerun, this time of Reginald giving an interview, a younger Luther hovering at his shoulder.

"No offense," says Dave, "but if you compare me to that guy again, I'm actually gonna cry."

Appalled, Diego says, "Please don't."

Another knock at the door.

"Food," Klaus cheers as Dave deals with the delivery guy.

"What did you order?"

Klaus informs him, "Chinese."

"Ugh. That shit is so greasy."

"You don't want any?"

"... No, I'll eat it."

Dave and Klaus share an amused, knowing glance.

The television has switched to a live interview from a NASA scientist, now, and Klaus unmutes it so they can hear them discussing the scientific opportunity this presents; Luther will be breaking the record for the longest time spent on the moon, and will be periodically sending samples back down to earth to be studied. The scientist laments that it’s a private expedition, and that NASA won't get the chance to analyse any samples themselves, but ultimately wishes the Hargreeves luck with the mission.

“You know what I noticed?” Klaus says suddenly.

“What?” asks Dave as he hands him his kung pao.

Klaus takes it distractedly, eyes fixed on the interview. “No one has actually said how long the mission is for.”

“What?” Diego questions, tone wary.

Dragging his gaze away from the TV, Klaus twirls his chopsticks between his fingers. “They keep saying it’s the longest moon mission ever,” he says, “but nobody has said how long.”

“Huh,” says Dave. Now it’s been pointed out, that is kind of weird. “You’d think they had that all planned out. They have to, right? To know how much food to take, how many supplies they need?”

“It’s not like daddy can’t afford to make supply runs - restock him when food runs out, bring samples back down.”

“Hold on,” Diego says, “are you saying dad’s just gonna leave him up there?”

With a pained smile, Klaus says, “Maybe. It’s pretty on brand for dad.”

“But this is _Luther,”_ counters Diego. “Number One. He’s the only one left; without him, there is no academy.”

“Maybe dear old Reggie finally realised that his little experiment failed,” Klaus muses.

“Or, maybe public opinion has gone sour,” says Dave. “Since Vanya released her book, I bet Reginald’s public image took a hit.”

Diego snatches up a take out carton, stabbing the chopsticks in with vengeance. “So Vanya is good for one thing.”

"Almost makes the whole _public ridicule_ thing worth it," considers Klaus. "Almost."

"Would have been better if she had left you guys out of it," agrees Dave.

"There are so many better ways to rebel against your shitty dad," says Klaus, mouth full of food. "Like, y'know, be gay, do drugs."

"Become a vigilante," Dave adds, grinning into his noodles. 

"Oh, fuck off," retorts Diego. "Dad probably doesn't even know about that."

"He probably didn't even read Vanya's book, either," says Klaus. "It's not like he's ever cared what she had to say."

"That's probably why she wrote it," Dave says grimly. "She finally made people listen to her." 

There's a brief, thoughtful silence, only to be broken by Diego deciding, "Still a dick move."

“Oh, yeah,” says Dave.

“Abso-fucking-lutely,” chirps Klaus.

And then Reginald Hargreeves himself darkens the screen.

Klaus startles, chopsticks flying from his hand. “ _Christ on a cracker,”_ he hisses.

“Today,” drones Reginald, “The Umbrella Academy will be making history-”

“Umbrella Academy,” echoes Diego, derisive. “What Academy? The Academy is fucking dead.”

Dave makes the executive decision to mute the TV again.

“Weird that Luther isn’t there,” says Diego.

Klaus frowns. “Huh. Yeah.”

“He’s probably busy getting suited up,” says Dave. “Launch is soon.”

Diego makes a skeptical noise, fingers drumming against his food. “Think Ben is gonna miss it?”

“Probably wants to watch it live,” Klaus sing-songs. 

Dave reminds them, “He promised.”

Klaus raises an eyebrow. “And you believe him?”

“Charming.”

Heart in his throat, Dave almost leaps onto his feet, only to recognise the voice a split second too late. “Holy shit,” he breathes, hand rubbing over his sternum.

“Hi, Ben,” Klaus says mildly.

“Hey, asshole,” says Ben. Then, turning to Dave: “Tell him I called him an asshole.”

Dutifully, Dave repeats his sentiments. Klaus grins, unrepentant.

With less confidence, Diego says, “Hey, Ben,” eyes focused a little to the left of where Ben is. Then, "Dave, man, do you think I could see him?"

Wincing, Dave says, "Maybe later? If I do it now, I'll nap through the launch. Sorry."

Diego nods manfully, somehow looking all the more pitiful in his attempt at being unaffected. "Sure. That's cool."

Klaus perks up, his food now abandoned in favour of his knitting, and asks, "Can _I_ talk to him?"

"Yeah, if you like," Dave says with a fond smile.

A shocked, offended noise falls out of Diego. "How come he gets to? What kind of favouritism bullshit is that? And since when does Klaus even want his powers?"

"What? No, no, it's totally different," explains Dave. "With Klaus, it's no effort to share it, because it's already his to begin with." He doesn't remark on the _favouritism_ accusation; he doesn't want to have to lie about it.

Begrudgingly, but somewhat appeased, Diego says, "Fine."

"Ha, suck it," Klaus says smugly, because he derives a lot of joy from making awkward situations worse.

The look on Diego's face promises violence, so Dave diffuses with, "Diego, you can speak to Ben after the launch. Klaus, do you want me to do the touching, so you can carry on knitting?"

Klaus' self satisfied grin melts at exposure to Dave's question, in the way it always does when he's exposed to kindness. "Yeah, cool, awesome."

Before he can overthink it, Dave picks up Klaus’ feet and places them in his lap, slipping his palm onto the bare skin of Klaus’ ankle. The background screams fade to a distant hum. Dave stares determinedly at the TV, not daring to check Klaus’ expression. His thumb brushes against the jut of the bone; he feels his face warm.

“Turn the volume back on,” instructs Ben. “It’s almost time.”

Whilst Klaus obliges, he asks, “Did you see Luther? Was he nervous?”

“Yeah, I did. He was…”

“He was what?”

Ben shakes his head. “I’ll explain later. They’re about to count down.”

“Oh, shit, it’s time,” Diego says, unknowingly echoing Ben.

The television is focused on the rocketship, now, and Dave can’t help but think it’s a fragile looking thing, spindly and thin. A disembodied voice begins to count down. The engine starts, a distant, huge rumbling, flames spewing, smoke billowing. The room seems to collectively hold their breath, living and dead alike, as the countdown runs down, _3, 2, 1-_

_Lift off._

With a great heaving, the ship lifts from the ground, slow, and then fast. The boosters release, and the rocket shrinks into the sky.

Klaus blows out a long breath. “He made it.”

“Of course he did,” dismisses Diego, as if he hadn’t been on the edge of his seat. “Dad wouldn’t tolerate a failure.”

A shaky laugh bursts out of Klaus, and Dave rubs the pad of his thumb in a circle around his ankle until he sees Klaus deflate.

He turns to Ben, asking, “So what were you saying earlier? About Luther?”

“Actually,” says Ben, hesitant, “do you reckon you could manifest me?”

Eyes widening, Dave bursts out, “Are you sure? Last time-”

“What’s he saying?” 

Dave explains to Diego, “He wants me to manifest him.”

“You can do that?”

“Well. Not really.”

“But-” interjects Ben, “you’ve figured stuff out since then! You banished a ghost!”

Shaking his head, Dave says, “That might have been a fluke. It was just instinct.”

“ _And,_ you don’t have to do it alone.”

Klaus squeaks, “What? _Moi?”_

Ben shrugs, way too casual for the situation. “You’re already sharing your powers. Might as well use them.”

Dave and Klaus share a look, full of uncertainty and wonder. Klaus’ eyebrows quirk up. With a small smile, Dave says, “I mean… I’m down if you are.”

“Can you two stop eye-fucking and explain what you’re talking about?” bursts out Diego, exasperated.

“Ben suggested we… joint manifest him?”

“I don’t know why you think I’d be an asset to this whole operation,” Klaus says suddenly, standing up and floating over to the fridge. “Dave’s the one who can do all the fancy ghost tricks. I had these powers for twenty something years without doing any of that.” Having retrieved a beer from the fridge, he cracks it open, and flops down against Dave, head tilted back on his shoulder. Dave swallows an embarrassing sound; Klaus slips his free hand into Dave’s. 

“Really, Klaus?” remarks Ben, eyeing the beer in his hand. Klaus blows a raspberry. 

Determinedly, Dave reminds him, “That’s not true. You helped me get Ben back when I fucked it up.”

Klaus hums, an ambiguous sound.

Ben steps closer, crouching down to catch Klaus’ eye, as much as Klaus is avoiding eye contact. “Klaus,” he says softly, “I wouldn’t ask you to do this if I didn’t think you could do it.”

Snorting, Klaus retorts, “Really? Remember how often you used to ask me to get sober?”

“Because I’ve always believed that you’re capable of that, too. And now look - you’re cleaner than you have been since you were, what, twelve?”

“...Yeah,” says Klaus, roughly. “Yeah. Okay.”

“Okay?” questions Dave, squeezing his hand.

Nodding fast, as if psyching himself up, Klaus says, “Okay. Fuck it, okay, let’s do it.”

“You’ve got this,” Dave encourages. “Remember, we’re not pulling energy away, we’re just-”

“Sharing our energy with him?”

Dave isn’t actually confident in it, but he bluffs and smiles like he is. Klaus pulls back enough to face Dave head on, folding his legs underneath him. 

“Are you doing it?”

Klaus waves his freehand at Diego. “Shush. Don’t distract us.”

“Okay, okay, fine.”

Closing his eyes (for him, there’s no stronger distraction than the sight of Klaus), Dave singles out his connection with Ben. Remembering his last failed attempt, he doesn’t try to pull him closer, but rather, tries to feed more of himself into the connection. Something cold slips into his veins, creeping up his wrists, and through their joined hands, he feels Klaus shiver violently.

“ _Jesus fucking Christ.”_

Blinking his eyes open, Dave is first caught by the blue of their hands - literally, glowing blue, and where their skin meets it burns a scaling white - so it takes him a beat to realise the way Ben has turned transparent and vague. For the first time, Ben truly looks like a ghost.

And Diego is staring at him with wide, excited eyes.

“Ben!” he says. “It worked!”

Ben looks down at his hands, studying the way he can see through himself. “Holy shit, you did it. You did it!”

Klaus laughs, high and borderline unhinged. “What the fuck, it actually worked?”

“It worked,” repeats Ben, face split with the force of his grin.

“It’s so good to see you, man,” says Diego; the novelty of speaking to his dead brother certainly hasn’t worn off.

“You too,” Ben says warmly. 

Dave prompts, “So what was it you wanted to talk about?”

He immediately regrets asking - the cheer dissolves from Ben’s features, leaving a worn anxiety in its place. “Right. So, uh, I saw Luther getting ready for the launch.”

“And?” questions Diego, a little put off by the direction he had taken.

“I think something happened to him.”

Klaus sits forward, brow creased with a frown. “What do you mean?” 

Ben chews on his lip. “He- looked different.”

Impatient, Diego asks, “Different how?”

“He was _huge,”_ Ben blurts. “Like- fucking _big.”_

“I don’t get it,” Klaus says blankly. “Does it really matter if he’s gained weight? I never took you for a total prick, Bennerino, but this isn’t very body positive of you.”

“No!” exclaims Ben. “I don’t mean it like that. He’s not just big, he’s- wrong. His proportions, the way he moves, it’s almost… unnatural.”

Something tense takes up residence on Klaus’ face, and Diego’s hand reflexively reaches for his holster.

Dumbly, Dave wonders, “Am I missing something? Do you mean he’s, what, gotten sick?”

“Unnatural,” Klaus echoes. “You don’t think-”

“Oh, I absolutely do,” Diego says forcefully. “It’s just the sort of shit Reginald would pull.”

“And risk his Number One?”

Ben counters, “How much use is one soldier? The Academy is over, and Vanya spat on it’s grave. It’s not like dad _actually cares about us.”_ His words drip with scorn.

“It was always an experiment to him,” Klaus mumbles faintly. He’s turned pale.

“Fuck,” spits Diego, a knife spinning in his hand. “Let me guess: it went wrong, and Dad got sick of seeing his failure at the dinner table. He couldn’t stand the sight of his own _son,_ so he sent him all the way to the _fucking moon.”_

“Hold on,” says Dave, mind racing to catch up with them. “Are you saying you dad… what? Experimented on him?”

Klaus laughs again, and this time it’s not just borderline unhinged, it’s full on hysterical. “Are you surprised?” he gasps out. “He experimented on all of us. Our whole existence is an experiment. Every aspect of our childhood was meticulously chronicled, every detail of our lives documented in those fucking journals of his. He was always scribbling everything down, all our failures, our _weaknesses._ He even- when we slept, he used to put all these fucking electrodes on us to measure our brain waves. Even whilst we were _sleeping,_ he was...”

With his free hand, Dave runs his palm down the length of Klaus’s spine, a slow motion to counterbalance the way Klaus seemed to be spinning out at speed. Lowly, he murmurs, “Take a breath.” Klaus does, but it hitches and shakes with laughter - or something worse.

“That poor bastard,” Diego says miserably. “I mean, I can’t stand the guy, but _fuck.”_

“No offence,” announces Dave, “but I could fucking kill your dad.”

Ben and Diego join Klaus in laughter.

“What?” says Dave, half offended, half pleased. “I could kill him!”

“Sure, Dave,” says Diego, blatantly humouring him.

“I have literally killed people before,” Dave reminds them. “I’m a war vet.”

Ben smiles. “Yeah, you’re real scary.”

“I _am,”_ contests Dave. “Klaus, tell them!”

“Well…”

Betrayed, Dave says, “Come on! What about the time I beat up your boyfriend?”

“He deserved it, though,” Ben points out.

“So does your dad.”

“We’re not in immediate danger from him. It’s not remotely the same.”

Dave shrugs. “Still, it just feels like there should be consequences. I mean, none of this can be legal.”

“He’s rich,” Diego says. “He can buy his way out of anything.”

“I hate that,” Dave grumbles. 

Klaus has the audacity to pinch his cheek, like an overbearing grandparent. “I know you do.”

Ducking back from the gesture, Dave continues, “I feel like we should do _something.”_

“Like what?” queries Klaus. “Egg his house?”

Dave blinks. Then, with growing excitement, “ _Fuck, yes.”_

“Are you serious?” says Ben. “Doesn’t that seem a little… immature?”

“I have a dozen eggs in the kitchen right now.”

Diego says, “I can’t believe I thought you were sensible. I’m in.”

Ben goes to argue, and then falters. “I mean, it’s not like _I’ll_ get arrested. Sure. Knock yourselves out.”

* * *

This is, Dave muses, possibly the most childish thing he’s ever done. It’s also fantastically fun.

“Okay, okay, everyone take some eggs,” instructs Klaus, keeping an eye out for cop cars. It’s a busy street, but no one is looking in their direction, and Dave suspects that a lot of witnesses would actually be more willing to cheer them on than rat them out; despite the space launch, the Hargreeves name is still a contentious one. “As soon as we’re done, we run, okay?”

Diego tests the weight of the egg, considering the best points to aim at. “I think I can see dad’s office window from here,” he notes cheerfully.

“Alright, ready?”

“I’ll keep watch,” Ben confirms.

“Ready when you are,” Klaus adds with a conspiratal grin.

In lieu of an answer, Diego throws his first egg - it nails the umbrella insignia on the front door.

Klaus cries, _“Fuck yes,_ ” and follows with an egg to the front step.

Dave laughs, giddy with the thrill of mischief, and the expectant, joyous way Klaus looks at him. He takes aim, and lobs an egg at one of the ornate stone lions. Egg white drips from its roaring face.

Diego throws another - it splatters over the window. Klaus launches one, aiming high and managing to reach the balcony above, whilst Dave targets the large pillars. Klaus cackles, falling half against him, so Dave wraps his arm around his shoulders, steadying him, and passes him another egg.

It’s not long until he reports, “Last one,” handing it off to Diego, who takes a step back and points out a distant window. 

“That’s the one,” he says, eyes narrowed.

Klaus pats his brother's shoulder, whilst Ben says, “You got this.”

With fierce concentration, Diego winds his arm back, and, with a practiced sort of force, flings it upward. It twists in the air, curving a perfect arc and colliding with the aforementioned window. Klaus whoops.

“I hope there’s a good explanation for this.”

The group whirls around, Dave hiding the now empty egg carton behind his back, as if the evidence of their crime isn’t dripping off of the mansion for all to see.

Ben says, “Oops.”

A serious looking woman is standing behind them, arms crossed, expression severe. She’s wearing a NYPD jacket.

Weakly, Diego says, “Eudora.”

“Patch,” she corrects him. “Why the fuck are you defacing a building in broad daylight?”

“Oh, shit, I remember you,” Klaus says suddenly. “You’ve totally arrested me before!” At this, Dave winces; reminding a _police officer_ of previous arrests probably isn’t the best tactic.

Patch agrees, “I think so, yeah. So? Any excuses you wanna give me?”

“Well- it’s our dad’s building,” says Diego.

“That’s not an excuse,” she says, “that’s a motive.”

Wilting, Diego says, “Aw, come on, Dora-”

“ _Patch.”_

“Um. Hi, Patch?” says Dave, before Diego gets them in any more trouble. “I’m Dave.”

Narrowing her eyes, she asks, “And?”

Trying to project more confidence than he feels, Dave suggests, “Mind if I talk to you for a second?” He tilts his head away in a bid for privacy. 

After a moment of deliberation, Patch says, “Fine. But you two-” she shoots the pair a sharp look “-don’t move. Got it?”

Klaus holds his hands up, tattoos on full display. “Yes, ma’am.”

Begrudgingly, Patch steps away, Dave following behind. “What’s this about?” she asks the second they’re presumably out of earshot.

“So, I know how this looks,” Dave begins, fumbling, “but, um, there’s a good reason?”

“Really,” she deadpans.

Dave checks, “You know who those two are, right?”

She nods. “Diego and I have… history.”

“So you know who their father is, and you probably have an idea of what he was like,” extrapolates Dave.

“And?” she asks, although she can’t quite cover her grimness at the thought.

“You know that he’s- well, he’s a fucking monster. You know what he did to them.”

“That doesn’t change the fact that vandalism is a criminal offence.”

“So is child abuse,” Dave says hotly, “and human experimentation, and child soldiers, and human trafficking, and-

“Two crimes don’t make a right. You can’t just take the law into your own hands,” Patch argues.

“I know, I know, but,” Dave swallows, trying to find the words. “I’m sorry, but the law has _failed._ He got away with it. Reginald Hargreeves is too rich and too powerful to ever be brought to justice. This is as close as they’ll ever get.”

Patch can no longer meet his gaze, confidence dropping. She looks, suddenly, quite young - she’s probably around their age. Diego must have been a teen when they met, barely out of the Academy. 

“Fine,” she says, voice low. “Fine. I will let you off with a warning, okay? But if I ever see you guys vandalising anywhere else-”

“You won’t,” Dave promises. He smiles. “Thank you.”

Nodding, Patch turns back to the others, and-

The street is empty.

Dave burst into laughter, half doubled over at the outrage on her face. 

“I told them not to move!”

“You also sounded like you wanted to arrest them,” Dave reasons.

She pinches the bridge of her nose, a long suffering sigh on her lips. “Fine. Whatever. Get out of here, before I change my mind.”

With a jaunty salute, Dave says, “Yes, ma’am,” and promptly makes himself scarce.

Ben, the only remaining Hargreeves, said, “I can’t believe you didn’t get arrested.”

Under his breath, he agrees, “Me neither.”

* * *

He runs into Klaus and Diego - literally - as he steps into his apartment complex.

Klaus reels back, expression difficult to read behind huge sunglasses. He’s also changed his outfit, now wearing a skirt, and an oversized leather jacket which actually belongs to _Dave._ “Holy shit,” he says, before launching forward into a hug so forceful that Dave almost falls backwards. “I thought you were in jail! We were coming to bail you out!” Releasing him, Klaus retrieves a mysterious wad of cash from his pocket.

Perplexed, Dave asks, “And the outfit change?”

“He was worried they would arrest him, so he wanted a _disguise,”_ Diego drawls. “How did you get away?”

“I reasoned with her.”

The siblings blink at him. Then, Klaus notes, “Huh. That’s smart. And kind of badass.”

Ben remarks, “The bar in this family is _so low.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i continue to use any excuse to bring patch into things. the show writers may have forgotten her, but i never will 


End file.
